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“His next stride brought him on his head. 


) 1 


Satane/la.] 


(Page 133.) 

[Frontispiece 





Satanella 

A Story of Punchestown 


G, Whyte-Melvillc 


Author of Holmby House,” “ The Gladiators,” 
“ Kate Coventry,” &c., See. 


Illustrated by Lucy E. Kemp-Welch 


New York 

Longmans, Green & Co. 

1899 

s 


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CONTENTS 


CHAP. 

I. The Black Mare 





PAGE 

7 

II. 

Miss Douglas 





. 14 

III. 

Daisy. 





23 

IV. 

Mrs. Lushington 





. 30 

V. 

Through the Mill 


• 



. 37 

VI. 

Cutting for Partners . 





. 45 

VII. 

Getting On . 


t 



. 56 

VIII. 

Insatiable 


• 



. 64 

IX. 

Off and On . 


1 



. 71 

X. 

At Sea . , 





. 80 

XI. 

Cormac’s-Town 


• 



. 91 

XII. 

One too Many 


t 



. 102 

XIII. 

Punchestown . 


• 



. 116 

XIV. 

“ A Good Thing ” . 


p 



. 136 

XV. 

Winners and Losers . 


• 



. 146 

XVI. 

A Garden of Eden 


• 



. 158 

XVII. 

“ Soldier Bill ” 


• 



. 169 

XVIII. 

Delilah 





. 180 


5 








6 


CONTENTS 


CnAF. 

XIX. 

“The River’s Brim” 

. . 

• 

• 

. 190 

XX. 

Taking the Collar . 

• 

• 

• 

. 204 

XXI. 

A Snake in the Grass 

. 

• 

• 

. 212 

XXII. 

An Expert . 

• 



. 221 

XXIII. 

The Debt of Honour 

• 



. 232 

XXIV. 

A Pertinent Question 

• 



. 241 

XXV. 

A Satisfactory Answer 

• 



. 252 

XXVI. 

Afternoon Tea 

• 



. 2G0 

XXVII. 

A Hard Morsel 

• 

• 


. 271 

XXVIII. 

“ Seeking Rest and Finding None ” 

• 


. 280 

XXIX. 

Undivided . 

• 

• 


. 289 

XXX. 

The Bitter End 

. . 

• 

. 

. 304 





SATANELLA 


CHAPTER I 

THE BLACK MARE 

“ She’ll make a chaser anny-how! ” 

The speaker was a rough-looking man in a frieze coat, 
with wide mouth, short nose, and grey, honest Irish eyes, 
that twinkled with humour on occasion, though clouded for 
the present by disappointment, not to say disgust, and with 
some reason. In his hand he held a broken strap, with 
broad and dingy buckle ; at his feet, detached from shafts 
and wheels, lay the body of an ungainly vehicle, neither 
gig, dog-cart, nor outside car, but something of each, 
battered and splintered in a dozen places: while ‘‘fore- 
aninst” him, as he called it, winced and fretted a young 
black mare, snorting, trembling, fractious, and terrified, 
with ears laid back, tail tucked down to her strong 
cowering quarters, and an obvious determination on 
the slightest alarm to kick herself clear of everything 


once more. 


8 


SAT AN ELL A 


At her head stood a ragged urchin of fourteen ; although 
her eyes showed wild and red above the shabby blinkers, 
she rubbed her nose against the lad’s waistcoat, and 
seemed to consider him the only friend she had left in 
the world. 

“ Get on her back, Patsy,” said the man. “ Faix, 
she’s a well-lepped wan, an’ we’ll take a hate out of 
her at Punchestown, with the blessin’!—Augh ! See 
now, here’s the young Captain ! Ye’re welcome. Captain! 
It’s meself was proud when I see how ye cleaned them 
out last week on ‘ Garryowen.’ Ye’ll come in, and 
welcome. Captain. Go on in front now, and I’ll show 
you the way ! ” 

So, while a slim, blue-eyed, young gentleman, with 
curled moustache, accompanied his entertainer into the 
house, Patsy took the mare to the stable, where he 
accoutred her in an ancient saddle, pulpy, w^eather-stained, 
with stirrups of most unequal length; proceeding thereafter 
to force a rusty snaffle into her mouth, with the tightest 
possible nose-band and a faded green and white front. 
These arrangements completed, he surveyed the whole, 
grinning and well-pleased. 

That the newcomer could only be a subaltern of Light 
Dragoons, was obvious from his trim equestrian appear¬ 
ance, his sleek, well-cropped head, the easy sit of his 
garments, also, perhaps, from an air of imperturbable good- 
humour and self-confidence, equal to any occasion that 
might present itself, social, moral, or physical. 



<* These arrangements completed, he surveyed the whole, grinning, 
and well pleased.” 


Satanalla,} 


[Page 8 













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THE BLACK MAKE 


9 


Proof against “ dandies of punch ” and such hospitable 
provocatives, he soon deserted the parlour for the stable. 

‘‘And how is the mare coming on? ” said he standing 
in the doorway of that animal’s dwelling, which she shared 
with a little cropped jackass, a Kerry cow, and a litter of 
pigs. “ I always said she could gallop a bit, and they’re 
the right sort to stay. But can she jump ? ” 

“ The beautifullest ever ye see! ” replied her enthusi¬ 
astic owner. “ She’ll go whereiver a cat would follow a 
rat. If there’s a harse in Connemara that ’ud charge on 
the sharp edge of a razor, there’s the wan that can do’t! 
Kick—stick and plasther! it’s in their breed; and like 
th’ould mare before her, so long as you’d hould her, it’s 
my belief she’d stay in the air! ” 

The object of these praises had now emerged from her 
stall, and a very lil^ely animal she looked; poor and 
angular indeed, with a loose neck and somewhat long 
ears, but in her lengthy frame, and large clean limbs, 
affording promise for the future of great beauty, no less 
than extraordinary power and speed. Her head was 
exceedingly characteristic, lean and taper, showing every 
vein and articulation beneath the glossy skin, with a wide 
scarlet nostril and flashing eye, suggestive of courage and 
resolution, not without a considerable leavening of temper. 
There are horses, and women too, that stick at nothing. 
To a bold rider, the former are invaluable, because with 
these it is possible to keep their mettle under control. 

“ Hurry now, Patsy ! ” said the owner, as that little 


10 


BATANELLA 


personage, diving for the stirrup, which he missed, looked 
imploringly to his full-grown companions for a ‘Meg 
up.” 

But it was not in the nature of our young officer, by 
name John Walters, known in his regiment as “Daisy,” 
to behold an empty saddle at any time without longing to 
fill it. He had altered the stirrups, cocked up his left 
leg for a lift, and lit fairly in his seat, before the 
astonished filly could make any more vigorous protest 
than a lurch of her gi’eat strong back and whisk of her 
long tail. 

“ Begorra ! ye’ll get it now! ” said her owner, half to 
himself, half to the Kerry cow, on which discreet animal 
he thought it prudent to rivet his attention, distrust¬ 
ing alike the docility of his own filly, and the English 
man’s equestrian skill. 

Over the rough paved yard, through the stone gap by 
the peat-stack, not the little cropped jackass himself could 
have behaved more soberly. But where the spring flowers 
were peeping in the turf enclosure beyond, and the 
upright bank blazed in its golden glory of gorse-bloom, 
the devilry of many ancestors seemed to pass with the 
keen mountain-air into the filly’s mettle. Her first 
plunge of hilarity and insubordination would have un¬ 
seated half the rough-riders that ever mishandled a 
charger in the school. 

Once—^twice, she reached forward, with long, powerful 
plunges, shaking her ears, and dashing wildly at her 


THE BLACK MARE 


11 


bridle, till she got rein enough to stick her nose in the air, 
and break away at speed. 

A snaffle, with or without a nose-hand, is scarcely the 
instrument by which a violent animal can be brought on 
its haunches at short notice ; but Daisy was a consummate 
horseman, firm of seat and cool of temper, with a head 
that never failed him, even when debarred from the proper 
use of his hands. 

He could guide the mare, though incapable of controlling 
her. So he sent her at the highest place in the fence 
before him, and, fast as she was going, the active filly 
changed her stride on the bank with the accuracy of a 
goat, landing lightly beyond, to scour away once more like 
a frightened deer. 

** You can jump! ” said he, as she threw up the head 
that had been in its right place hardly an instant, 
while she steadied herself for the leap; “ and I believe 
you’re a flyer. But, by Jove ! you’re a rum one to steer! ” 

She was quite out of his hand again, and laid herself 
down to her work with the vigour of a steam-engine. The 
daisy-sprinkled turf fleeted like falling water beneath those 
long, smooth, sweeping strides. 

They were careering over an open upland country, 
always slightly on the rise, till it grew to a bleak brown 
mountain far away under the western sky. The enclosures 
were small ; but notwithstanding the many formidable 
banks and ditches with which it was intersected, the whole 
landscape wore that appearance of space and freedom 



12 


SATANELLA 


so peculiar to Irish scenery, so pleasing to the sportsman’s 
eye. ‘‘It looked like galloping,” as they say, though 
no horse, without great jumping powers, could have gone 
tw’o fields. 

It took a long Lish mile, at racing pace, to bring the 
mare to her bridle, and nothing hut her unusual activity 
saved the rider from half-a-dozen rattling falls during his 
perilous experiment. She bent her neck at last, and gave 
to her bit in a potato-ground; nor, if he had resolved to 
buy her for the sake of her speed and stamina while she 
was running away with him, did he like her less, we 
may be sure, when they arrived at that mutual under¬ 
standing, which links together so mysteriously the 
intelligences of the horse and its rider. 

Tmming homewards, the pah’ seemed equally pleased 
with each other. She played gaily with the snaffle now, 
answering hand and heel cheerfully, desirous only of 
being ridden at the largest fences, a fancy in which he 
indulged her, nothing loth. Trotting up to four feet 
and a half of stone wall, round her own stable-yard, she 
slipped over it without an effort, and her owner, a 
discerning person enough, added fifty to her price on the 
spot. 

“ She’s a good sort,” said the soldier, patting her 
reeking neck, as he slid to the ground; “but she’s 
uncommon bad to steer when her monkey’s up ! Sound, 
you say, and rising four year old ? I wonder how she’s 
bred?” 


THE BLACK MABE 


13 


Such a question could not but entail a voluminous 
reply. Never, it appeared, in one strain, had been 
united the qualities of so many illustrious ancestors. 
Her pedigree seemed enriched with ‘‘all the blood of 
all the Howards,” and her great-great-great-grandam 
was “ Camilla by Trentham, out of Phantom, sister 
to Magistrate! ” 

“An’ now ye’ve bought her. Captain,” said our friend in 
frieze, “ ye’ve taken the best iver I bred, an’ the best iver I 
seen. Av’ I’d let her out o’my sight wanst at Ballinasloe, 
the Lord-Liftinint ’ud have been acrass her back, while I’m 
tellin’ ye, an’ him leadin’ the hunt, up in Meath, or about 
the Fairy House and Kilrue. The spade wasn’t soldered 
yet that would dig a ditch to hould her; and when them 
sort’s tired. Captain, begorra ! the very breeches ’ud be 
wore to rags betwixt your knees ! You trust her, and you 
trust me ! Wait till I tell ye now. There’s only wan 
thing on this mortial earth she won’t do for ye ! ” 

“ And what’s that? ” asked the other, well pleased. 

“ She’ll not back a bill! ” was the answer; “ but if iver 
she schames with ye, renaging* or such like, by this book. 
I’ll be ashamed to look a harse, or so much as a jackass in 
the face again ! ” 

So the mare was sent for; and Patsy, with a stud 
reduced to the donkey and the Kerry cow, shed bitter tears 
when she went away. 


Befusing. 


CHAPTEK II 


MISS DOUGLAS 

It is time to explain how the young black mare became 
linked with the fate of certain persons, whose fortunes and 
doings, good or bad, are related in this story. 

To that end the scene must he shifted, and laid in 
London—London, on a mild February morning, wlien even 
South Audley Street and its tributaries seemed to exhale a 
balmy fragrance from the breath of spring. 

In one of these, a window stood open on the drawing¬ 
room floor—so wide open that the baker, resting his burden 
on the area railings below, sniffed the perfume of hyacinths 
bursting their bulbs, and beat time with floury shoes to the 
notes of a wild and plaintive melody, wailing from the 
pianoforte within. 

Though a delicate little breakfast-service had not yet 
been removed from its spider-legged table, the performer at 
the instrument was already hatted and habited for a ride. 
Her whole heart, nevertheless, seemed to be in the tips of 
her fingers while she played, drawing from the keys such 

14 


MISS DOUGLAS 


15 


sighs of piteous plaint, such sobs of sweet seductive sorrow, 
as ravished the soul of the baker below, creating a strong 
desire to scale the window-sill, and peep into the room. 
Could he have executed such a feat, this is what he would 
have seen. 

A woman of twenty-five, tall, slim-waisted, with a wealth 
of blue-black hair, all made fast and coiled away beneath 
her riding-hat in shining folds, massive as a three-inch 
cable. A woman of graceful gestures, undulating like the 
serpent; of a shapely figure, denoting rather the graces of 
action, than the beauty of repose; lithe, self-reliant, full of 
latent energy, betraying in every movement an inborn 
pride, tameless though kept down, and incurable as 
Lucifer’s before his fall. 

The white hands moving so deftly over the keys were 
strong and nervous, with large blue veins and taper fingers; 
such hands as denote a vigorous nature and a resolute will 
—such hands as strike without pity, and hold with tenacious 
grasp—such hands as many a lofty head has bowed its 
pride to kiss, and thought no shame. 

Lower and lower, she bent over them while she played— 
softer and softer sank and swelled, and died away, the sad 
suggestive notes, bursting at last into a peal and crash of 
harmony, through which there came a short quick gasp for 
breath like a sob. Then she shut the pianoforte with a 
bang, and walked to the glass over the fire-place. 

It reflected a strangely-fascinating face, so irregular of 
features that women sometimes called it “positively 


16 


SATANELLA 


plain; ” but on wliicli the other sex felt neither better nor 
wiser men when they looked. The cheek-bones, chin, and 
jaws were prominent; the eye-brows, though arched, too 
thick; and for feminine beauty, the mouth too firm, in 
spite of its broad white teeth, and dark shade pencilled on 
the upper lip, in spite even of its saucy curl and bright 
bewildering smile. 

But when she lifted her flashing eyes fi'inged in their 
long black lashes, there was no more to be said. They 
seemed to blaze and soften, shine and swim, all in one 
glance that went straight to a man’s heart and made him 
wince with a thrill akin to pain. 

Pale women protested she had too much colour, and 
vowed she painted: but no cosmetics ever yet concocted 
could have imitated her deep rich tints, glowing like those 
of the black-browed beauties one sees in Southern Europe, 
as if the blood ran crimson beneath her skin—as if she, too, 
had caught warmth and vitality from their generous climate 
and their sunny, smiling skies. When she blushed, it was 
like the glory of noonday; and she blushed now, while 
there came a trampling of hoofs in the street, a ring at the 
door-bell. 

The colour faded from her brow, nevertheless, before a 
man’s step dwelt heavily on the staircase, and her visitor 
was ushered into the room as “ General St. Josephs.” 

“ You are early. General,” said she, giving him her 
hand with royal condescension; ‘‘ early, but welcome, and 
—and— The horses will be round in five minutes-— 


MISS DOUGLAS 


17 


Have you had any breakfast? I am afraid my coffee is 
quite cold.” 

General St. Josephs knew what it was to starve in the 
Crimea and broil in the Mutiny; had been shot at very 
often by guns of various calibres; had brought into 
discipline one of the worst-drilled regiments in the service, 
and was a distinguished officer, past forty years of age. 
What made his heart beat, and his hands turn cold? Why 
did the blood rush to his temples, while she gave him 
greeting ? 

“ Don’t hurry, pray ! ” said he; ‘‘I can wait as long as 
you like. I’d wait the whole day for you, if that was 
all! ” 

He spoke in a husky voice, as if his lips were dry. 
Perhaps that was the reason she seemed not to hear. 

Throwing the window wide open, she looked down the 
street. Taking more of that thoroughfare than was con¬ 
venient by advancing lengthways, with many plunges and 
lashings out, and whiskings of her long square tail, a 
black mare with a side-saddle was gradually approaching 
the door. The groom who led her seemed not a little 
relieved when he got her to stand by the kerb-stone, patting 
her nose and whispering many expletives suggestive of 
composure and docility. 

This attendant, though gloved, booted, and belted for a 
ride, felt obviously that one such charge as he had taken in 
hand was enough. He meant to fetch his own horse from 
the stable as soon as his mistress was in the saddle. 


18 


SATANELLA 


A staid person, out of livery, came to the door, looking 
up and down the street with the weary air of a man who 
resides chiefly in his pantry. He condescended to remark, 
however, that *‘Miss Douglas was a-comin’ down, and the 
mare’s coat had a polish on her same as if she’d been 
varnished.” 

While the groom winked in reply. Miss Douglas appeared 
on the pavement; and the baker, delivering loaves three 
doors off, turned round to wonder and approve. 

“ May I put you up ? ” said the General meekly, almost 
timidly. 

How different the tone, and yet it was the same voice 
that had heretofore rung out so firm and clear in stress of 
mortal danger, with its stirring order— 

The Light Brigade will advance ! ” 

“No, thank you,” said Miss Douglas coldly; “ Tiger 
Tim does the heavy business. Now, Tim—one—two— 
three! ” 

“ Three ” landed her lightly in the saddle, and the black 
mare stood like a sheep. One turn of her foot, one kick of 
her habit—Miss Douglas was established where she looked 
her best, felt her best, and liked best to he in the world. 

So she patted the black mare’s neck, a caress her 
favourite acknowledged with such a hound as might have 
unseated Bellerophon; and followed by Tim, on a good- 
looking chestnut, rode off with her admiring General to the 
Park. 

Who is Miss Douglas? This was the question everybody 


MISS DOUGLAS 


19 


asked, and answered too, for that matter, but not satis¬ 
factorily. Blanche Douglas—such was the misnomer of 
this black-hrowed lady—had been in London for two years, 
yet given no account of her antecedents, shown no vouchers 
for her identity. To cross-question her was not a pleasant 
undertaking, as certain venturous ladies found to their cost. 
They called her “ The Black Douglas,” indeed, out of 
spite, till a feminine wit and genius gave her the nick¬ 
name of “ Satanella; ” and as Satanella she was henceforth 
know in all societies. 

After that people seemed more re-assured, and dis¬ 
covered, or possibly invented for her, such histories as 
they considered satisfactory to themselves. She was the 
orphan, some said, of a speculative naval officer, who had 
married the cousin of a peer. Her father was drowned off 
Teneriffe; her mother died of a broken heart. The girl 
was brought up in a west-country school till she came of 
age; she had a thousand a year, and lived near South 
Audley Street with her aunt, a person of weak intellect, 
like many old women of both sexes. She was oddish her¬ 
self, and rather bad style; but there was no harm in her ! 

This was the good-natured version. The ill-natured one 
was the above travestied. The father had cut his throat; 
the mother ran away from him, and went mad; and the 
west-country school was a French convent. The aunt and 
the thousand a year were equally fabulous. She was loud, 
bold, horsy, more than queer, and where the money came 
from that kept the little house near South Audley Street 
and enabled her to carry on, goodness only knew! 


20 


8ATANELLA 


Still she held her own, and the old men fell in love with 
her. “ My admirers,” she told Mrs. Cullender, who told 
me, “ are romantic—very, and rheumatic also, a faire 
pleurer. The combination, my dear, is touching, but 
exceedingly inconvenient.” 

Mrs. Cullender further affirms that old Buxton would 
have married and made her a peeress, had she hut held up 
her finger; and declares she saw Counsellor Cramp go 
down on his knees to her, falling forward on his hands, 
however, before he could get up again, and thus finishing 
his declaration, as it were, on all-fours ! 

But she would have none of these, inclining rather to 
men of firmer mould, and captivating especially the gallant 
defenders of their country by sea and land. Admirals are all 
susceptible more or less, and fickle as the winds they record 
in their log-hooks. So she scarcely allowed them to count 
in her score; but at one time she had seven general-officers 
on the list, with colonels and majors in proportion. 

Her last conquest was St. Josephs—a handsome man, 
and a proud, cold, reseiwed, deep-hearted, veiling under an 
icy demeanour a temper sensitive as a girl’s. How many 
women would have delighted to lead such a captive up and 
down the Ride, and show him off as the keeper shows off his 
hear in its chain! How many would have paraded their 
sovereignty over this stern and quiet veteran, till their own 
hearts were gone, and they longed to change places with 
their victim, to serve where they had thought only to 
command ! 


MISS DOUGLAS 


21 


In February London begins to awake out of its winter 
sleep. Some of the great houses have already got their 
blinds up, and their doorsteps cleaned. Well-known faces 
are hurrying about the streets, and a few equestrians spot 
the Kide, like early flies crawling over a window-pane. 
The black mare lashed out at one of these with a violence 
that brought his heart into the soldier’s mouth, executing 
thereafter some half-dozen long and dangerous plunges. 
Miss Douglas sat perfectly still, giving the animal plenty 
of rein; then administered one severe cut with a stiff 
riding-whip, that left its mark on the smooth shining 
skin ; and, having thus asserted herself, made much of her 
favourite, as if she loved it all the better for its wilfulness. 

“ I wish you wouldn’t ride that brute ! ” said the General 
tenderly. “ She’ll get out of your hand some of these 
days, and then there’ll be a smash! ” 

‘‘Not ride her! ” answered Miss Douglas, opening her 
black eyes wide. “ Not ride my own beautiful pet I 
General, I should deserve never to get into a side-saddle 
again 1 ” 

“ For the sake of your friends,” urged the other, drawing 
very close with a pressure of the leg to his own horse’s side ; 
“ for the sake of those who care for you; for—for —my 
sake—Miss Douglas I ” 

His hand was almost on the mare’s neck, his head bent 
towards its rider. If a man of his age can look “spoony,” 
the General was at that moment a fit subject for ridicule to 
every Cornet in the Service. 


22 


SATANELLA 


Laughing rather scornfully, with a turn of her wrist she 
put a couple of yards between them. 

‘‘Not even for your sake, General, will I give up my 
darling. Do you think I have no heart?” 

His brow clouded. He looked very stern and sad, hut 
gulped down whatever he was going to say, and asked 
instead, “Why are you so fond of that mare? She’s 
handsome enough, no doubt, and she can go fast; but 
still, she is not the least what I call a lady’s horse.” 

“ That’s my secret,” answered Miss Douglas playfully; 
“ wouldn’t you give the world to know? ” 

She had a very winning way, when she chose, all the 
more taking from its contrast to her ordinary manner. 
He felt its influence now. 

“ I believe I would give you the world if I had it, and 
not even ask for your secret in exchange,” was his reply. 
“ One more turn. Miss Douglas, I entreat you! ” (for 
she was edging away as if for home.) “It is not near 
luncheon-time, and I was going to say—Miss Douglas— 
I was going to say—” 

“ Don’t say it now ! ” she exclaimed, with a shake of her 
bridle that brought the mare in two bounds close to the 
footway. “ I must go and speak to him ! I declare she 
knows him again. He’s got a new umbrella. There he 
is! ” 

“Who?” 

“ Why ! Daisy I ” 

“ D—n Daisy I ” said the General, and rode moodily out 
of the Park, 


CHAPTER III 

DAISY 

Mr. Walters piqued himself on his sang-froid. If the 
fractus orhis had gone, as he would have expressed it, 
“to blue smash,” ferient ruincef he would 

have contemplated the predicament from a ludicrous rather 
than a perplexing point of view. Nevertheless, his eye 
grew brighter, and the colour deepened on his cheek, when 
Miss Douglas halted to lean over the rails and shake hands 
with him. 

He was very fond of the black mare, you see, and 
believed firmly in her superiority to her kind. 

“ Oh ! Daisy ! I’m so glad to see you ! ” said Miss 
Douglas. “ I never thought you’d be in London this open 
weather. I’m so much obliged to you, and you’re the 
kindest person in the world ; and—and—isn’t she looking 
well?” 

“ You’re both looking well,” answered Daisy gallantly; 
“ I thought I couldn’t miss you if I walked up this side of 
the Row and down the other.” 


i23 


24 


SATANELLA 


“ Oh! Daisy! You didn’t come on purpose! ” 
exclaimed the lady, with rather a forced laugh, and 
S3'mptoms of a blush. 

For answer, I am son*y to say, this young gentleman 
executed a solemn wink. The age of chivalry may or 
may not be on the wane, but woman-worshippers of 
to-day adopt a free-and-easy manner in expressing their 
adoration, little flattering to the shrines at which they bow. 

“Did you really want to see me?” continued Miss 
Douglas ; “ and why couldn’t you call ? I’d have ridden 
with you this morning if I’d known you were in tov/n.” 

“ Got no quad.,” answered the laconic Daisy. 

“ And yet you lent me your mare! ” said she. “ Indeed, 
I can’t think of keeping her; I’ll return her at once. Oh ! 
Daisy ! you unselfish—” 

“ Unselfish what ? ” 

“ Goose ! ” replied the lady. “ Now, when will you have 
her back? She’s as quiet again as she used to be, and I do 
believe there isn’t such another beauty in the world.” 

“ That’s why I gave her to 2/oit,” answered Daisy. “ It’s 
no question of lending; she’s yours, just as much as this 
umbrella’s mine. Beauty! I should think she icas a 
beauty. I don’t pay compliments, or I’d say—there’s a 
pair of you! Now, look here. Miss Douglas, I might 
ask you to lend her to me for a month, perhaps, if I 
saw my way into a real good thing. I don’t think I ever 
told you how I came to buy that mare, or what a clipper 
she is! ” 


DAISY 


25 


“Tell me noiv ! ” said Miss Douglas eagerly. “ Let’s 
move on; people stare so if one stops. You can speak 
the truth walking, I suppose, as well as standing still! ” 
“ It’s truth I’m telling ye! ” he answered, with a laugh. 
“ I heard of that mare up in Roscommon when she was 
two years old. I was a year and a half trying to buy 
her; but I got her at last, for I’m not an impatient 
fellow, you know, and I never lose sight of a thing I 
fancy I should like.” 

“Watch and wait!” said the lady. 

“Yes, I watched and I waited,” he continued, “till at 
last they gave me a ride. She’d had a good deal of fun 
with a sort of go-cart they tried to put her in; and when I 
saw her I think her owner was a little out of conceit with 
his venture. She was very poor and starved-looking, 
—not half the mare she is now; but she ran away with me 
for nearly two miles, and I found she could—just I So I 
bargained, and jawed, and bothered, though I gave a hatful 
of money for her all the same. When I got her home to 
barracks, I had her regularly broke and bitted; but she 
never was easy to ride, and she never will be! ” 

For all comment. Miss Douglas drew the curb-rein 
through her fingers, while the mare bent willingly and 
gently to her hand. 

“Oh! I know they all go pleasant with you!” said 
Daisy. “Men and horses, you’ve the knack of bringing 
them to their bridles in a day! Well, I hunted her that 
season in Meath and Kildare; but somehow we never 


26 


8ATANELLA 


dropped into a run. At last one morning, late in the Spring, 
we turned out a deer in the Dublin country, and took him 
in exactly twenty-seven minutes. Then this child knew 
what its plaything was made of. Didn’t I, old girl?” 

He patted the mare’s neck, and her rider, whose eyes 
brightened with interest, laid hers on exactly the same 
spot when his hand was withdrawn. 

“ You found her as good as she looks,” said Miss 
Douglas. “Oh! Daisy! in that grass country it must 
have felt like being in heaven! ” 

“ I don’t know about that,” said the light dragoon ; 
“ but we were not very far off, sometimes, on the tops 
of those banks. However, I found nothing could touch 
her in jumping, or come near her for pace. Not a horse 
was within a mile of us for the last ten minutes; so I 
took her down to the Curragh—and—Miss Douglas, can 
you —can you keep a secret ? ” 

“ Of course, I can,” replied the lady. “ What a 
question, Daisy, as if I wasn’t much more like a man 
than a woman ! ” 

His face assumed an expression of solemnity befitting 
the communication he had to impart. His voice sank 
to a whisper, and he looked stealthily around, as if fearful 
of being overheard. 

“We tried her at seven pound against Robber-Chief, 
four Irish miles over a steeple-chase course. She gave 
the Chief seven pound, her year, and a beating. Why, it 
makes her as good as the Lamb ! ” 




27 


Notwithstanding the gravity of such a topic, Miss 
Douglas laughed outright. 

‘‘ How like you, Daisy, to run away with an idea. 
It does not make her as good as The Lamh, because 
you once told me yourself that Kobber-Chief never runs 
kindly in a trial. You see I don’t forget things. But all 
the same, I daresay she’s as good again, the darling, and 
I’m sure she’s twice as good-looking ! ” 

“Now, don’t you see. Miss Douglas?” proceeded 
Daisy, “ I’ve been thinking you and I might do a good 
stroke of business if we stood in together. My idea is 
this. I enter her at Punchestown for the Great United 
Service Handicap. I send her down to be trained on the 
quiet at a place I know of, not fifteen miles from where 
we’re standing now. Nobody can guess how she’s bred, 
nor what she is. They mean to put crushing weights on 
all the public runners. She’ll he very well in, I should 
say, at about eleven stone ten. I’ll ride her myself, for 
I know the course, and I’m used to that country. If 
we win, you must have half the stakes, and you can hack 
her, besides, for as much as you please. What do you 
say to it ? ” 

“ I like the idea immensely ! ” answered Miss Douglas. 
“ Only I don’t quite understand about the weights and 
that— But, Daisy, are you sure it isn’t dangerous ? 
I mean for you. I’ve heard of such horrible accidents at 
those Irish steeple-chases.” 

“I tell you she can't fall,” answered this sanguine 


28 


SAT AN ELLA 


young sportsman; “ and I hope I’m not likely to tumble 
off her! ” 

Miss Douglas hesitated. “ Couldn’t I—” she said 
shyly; “couldn’t I ride her in her gallops myself?” 

He laughed; hut his face clouded over the next 
moment. 

“Iought not to have asked you,” said he; “it seems 
so selfish to take away your favourite; but the truth is, 
Miss Douglas, I’m so awfully hard up that, unless I can 
land a good stake, it’s all U—P with me ! ” 

“ Why didn’t you tell me ? ” exclaimed Miss Douglas ; 
“ Why didn’t you—” Here she checked herself, and 
continued in rather a hard voice, “ Of course, if you’re 
in a fix, it must be got out of, with as little delay as 
possible. So take the mare, by all means; and another 
time, Daisy— Well, another time don’t be so shy of 
asking your friend’s advice. If I’d been your brother- 
officer, for instance, should I have seemed such a bad 
person to consult? ” 

“By Jove, you’re a trump! ” he exclaimed impulsively, 
adding, in qualification of this outspoken sentiment, 
“Imean, you’ve so good a heart, you ought to have been 
a man! ” 

She coloured with pleasure; but her face turned very 
grave and sad, while she replied, “I wish I had been! 
Don’t you know what Tennyson says? Never mind, you 
don’t read Tennyson very often, I dare say ! ” 

“ I can’t make out what fellows mean in poetry,” 


DAISY 


29 


answered Daisy. ‘‘But I like a good song if it’s in 
English; and I like best of all to hear you play ! ” 

“Now, what on earth has that to do with it?” she 
asked impatiently. “We are talking about the mare. 
Send round for her to-morrow morning, and you can 
enter her at once. Has she got a name?” 

“ It used to be The Dark Ladye,” he answered, 
smiling rather mischievously, “ out of compliment to you. 
But I’ve changed it now.” 

“I ought to he very much flattered. And to what? ” 

“To Satanella.” 

She bit her lip, and tried to look vexed; but she 
couldn’t be angry with Daisy, so laughed heartily as she 
waved him a good-bye, and cantered home. 


CHAPTEK IV 

MRS. LUSHINGTON 

With all her independence of spirit, it cannot be 
supposed that Miss Douglas went to and fro in the 
world of London without a chaperon. On women, an 
immunity from supervision, and what we may call the 
freedom of the city, is conferred by matrimony alone. 
This franchise seems irrespective of age. A virgin of 
fifty gathers confidence under the wing of a bride nine¬ 
teen years old, shooting her arrows with the more pre¬ 
cision that she feels so safe behind the shield of that 
tender, inexperienced matron. Why are these things so ? 
Why do we dine at nightfall, go to bed at sunrise, and 
get up at noon ? Why do we herd together in narrow 
staircases and inconvenient rooms at the hottest season 
of the year? If people bore us, why do we ask them 
to dinner ? and suffer fools gladly, without ourselves being 
wise ? I wonder if we shall ever know. 

Blanche Douglas accordingly, with more courage, reso¬ 
lution, and savoir faire^ than nine men out of every ten, 

30 


ME8. LU8HINGT0N 


81 


had placed herself under the tutelage of Mrs. Francis 
Lushington, a lady with a convenient husband, who, like 
the celebrated courtier, was never in the way nor out of 
the way. She talked about Frank,” as she called him, 
every ten minutes; but somehow they were seldom seen 
together, except once a week at afternoon church. 

That gentleman himself must either have been the 
steadiest of mortals, or the most cunning; his wife 
inclined to think him the latter. 

Mrs. Lushington knew everybody, and went everywhere. 
There was no particular reason why she should have 
attained popularity; but society had taken her up, and 
seemed in no hurry to set her down again. 

She was a little fair person, with pretty features and 
a soft pleading voice, very much dressed, very much 
painted; as good a foil as could be imagined to such 
a woman as Blanche Douglas. 

They were sitting together in the dining-room of the 
latter about half past two p.m. There never was such 
a lady for going out to luncheon as Mrs. Lushington. 
If you were asked to that pleasant meal at any house 
within a mile of Hyde Park Corner, it would have been 
a bad bet to take five to one about not meeting her. 
She was like a nice little luncheon herself. Not much 
of her; but what there was light, delicate, palatable, with 
a good deal of garnish. 

‘‘And which is it to be, dear?” asked this lady of 
her hostess, finishing a glass of sherry with considerable 


32 


SATANELLA 


enjoyment. ** I know I shall have to congratulate one of 
them soon, and to send you a wedding-present; but it’s 
no use talking about it, till I know which-” 

** Do you think it a wise thing to marry, Clara ? 
said the other in reply, fixing her black eyes solemnly on 
her friend’s face. 

Mrs. Lushington pondered. There’s a good deal 
to be said on both sides,” she answered; “and I haven’t 
quite made up my mind what I should do if I were you. 
With me, you know, it was different. If I hadn’t made 
a convenience of Frank, I should have been nursing my 
dreadful old aunt still. You are very independent as you 
are, and do no end of mischief. But, my dear, you won’t 
last for ever. That’s where we fair women have the pull. 
And then you’ve so many to choose from. Yes; I think 
if I were you^ I ivould ! ” 

“ And—You’ll laugh at me, Clara, I feel,” said Miss 
Douglas. “ Do you think it’s a good plan to marry a 
man one don’t care for; I mean, who rather bores one 
than otherwise ? ” 

“I did, dear,” was the reply; “but I don’t know that 
I’ve found it answer.” 

“ It must be dreadful to see him all day long, and have 
to study his fancies. Breakfast with him, perhaps, every 
morning at nine o’clock.” 

“ Frank would go without breakfast often enough, if 
he couldn’t make his own tea, and insisted on such early 
hours. No, dear, there are worse things than that. We 



MRS. LUSHINGTON 


33 


have to be in the country when they want to shoot, 
and in the spring too sometimes, if they’re fond of 
hunting. But, on the other hand, we married women 
have certain advantages. We can keep more flirtations 
going at once than you. Though, to be sure, I don’t 
fancy the General would stand much of that! If ever 
I saw a white Othello, it’s St. Josephs.” 

“St. Josephs! Do you think I want to marry St. 
Josephs ? ” 

Could the General have overheard the tone in which 
his name was spoken, surely his honest heart would have 
felt very sore and sad. 

“ Well, he wants to marry you! ” was the reply; “ and, 
upon my word, dear, the more I think of it, the more 
I am convinced you couldn’t do better. He is rich enough, 
rather good-looking, and seems to know his own mind. 
What would you have?” 

“ My dear, I couldn't! ” 

“ State your objections.” 

“ Well, in the first place, he’s very fond of me.” 

“ That shows good taste ; but it needn’t stand in the 
way, for you may be sure it won’t last.” 

“But it will last, Clara, because I cannot care for 
him in return. My dear, if you knew what a brute I 
feel sometimes, when he goes away, looking so proud 
and unhappy, without ever saying an impatient word. 
Then I’m sorry for him, I own; but it’s no use, and I 
only wish he would take up with somebody else. Don’t 

3 


34 


8ATANELLA 


you think you could help me ? Clara, ivould you mind ? 
It’s uphill work, I know; but you’ve plenty of others, and 
it wouldn’t tire you, as it does me / ” 

Miss Douglas looked so pitiful, and so much in earnest, 
that her friend laughed outright. 

I think I should like it very much,” replied the latter, 
“ though I’ve hardly room for another on the list. But if 
it’s not to be the General, Blanche, we return to the pre¬ 
vious question. Who is it ? ” 

“ I don’t think I shall ever marry at all,” answered the 
younger lady, with a smothered sigh. “ If I were a man, 
I certainly wouldn’t; and why wasn’t I a man ? Why 
can’t we be independent ? go where we like, do what we 
like, and for that matter, choose the people we like? ” 

“ Then you would choose somebody ? ” 

“ I didn’t say so. No, Clara; the sort of person I 
should fancy would be sure never to care for me. His 
character must be so entirely different from mine, and 
though they say, contrasts generally agTee, black and 
white, after all, only make a feeble kind of grey.” 

“ Whatever you do, dear,” expostulated Mrs. Lushington, 
“ don’t go and fall in love with a boy ! Of all follies on 
earth, that pays the worst. They are never the same two 
days together, and not one of them but thinks more of the 
horse he bought last Monday at Tattersalls, than the 
woman he ‘ spooned,’ as they call it, last Saturday night 
at the Opera.” 

Miss Douglas winced. 


MBS. LUSHINOTON 


85 


‘‘I cannot agree with you,” said she, stooping to pick 
up her handkerchief; ‘‘I think men giw worse rather 
than better, the more they live in the world. I like people 
to be fresh, and earnest, and hopeful. Perhaps it is 
because I am none of these myself, that I rather appreciate 
boys.” 

Mrs. Lushington clapped her hands. The very 

thing! ” she exclaimed. “ He’s made on purpose for you. 
You ought to know Daisy ! ” 

Miss Douglas drew herself up. “I do know Mr. 
Walters,” she answered coldly; “if you mean him, I 
believe he is called Daisy in his regiment and by his very 
particular friends.” 

“ You know him ! and you didn’t tell me f” replied the 
other gaily. “ Never mind. Then, of course you’re 
devoted to him. I am; we all are. He’s so cheery, so 
imperturbable, and what I like him best for, is, that he has 
no more heart than — than — well, than I have myself. 
There! ” 

Miss Douglas was on her guard now. The appropriative 
faculty, strong in feminine nature as the maternal instinct, 
and somewhat akin to it, was fully aroused. Only in 
London, no doubt, would it have been possible for two such 
intimates to be ignorant of each other’s predilections ; but 
even here it struck Blanche there was something suspicious 
in her friend’s astonishment, something not quite sincere 
in her enthusiasm and her praise. 

So she became exceedingly polite and affectionate, as a 


86 


SATANELLA 


fencer goes through a series of courteous salutes, while 
proposing to himself the honour of running his adversary 
through the brisket. 

“You make yourself out worse than you are, Clara,” 
said she; “it’s lucky I know you so well. Indeed, you 
mustn’t go yet. You always run away before I’ve said 
half my say. You’ll be sure to come again very soon 
though. Promise, dear. What a love of a carriage ! ” 

It was, indeed, a very pretty Victoria that stopped at 
the door—fragile, costly, delicate, like a piece of porcelain 
on wheels—and very pretty Mrs. Lushington looked therein, 
as she drove away. 

She had turned the corner of the street some minutes 
before Miss Douglas left the window. Passing a mirror, 
that lady caught the reflection of her own face, and stopped, 
smiling, hut not in mirth. 

“ They may well call you Satanella,” she said; “ and 
yet I could have been so good—so good ! ” 


CHAPTER V 

THROUGH THE MILL 

“ She was iron-sinewed and satin-skinned, 

Kibbed like a drum, and limbed like a deer, 

Fierce as the fire, and fleet as the wind. 

There was nothing she couldn’t climb or clear; 

Kich lords had vexed me in vain to part. 

For their gold and silver, with Britomart. ” * 

“ It describes your mare exactly, and how the gifted, ill- 
fated author would have liked a ride on such a flyer as 
Satanella.” 

The speaker’s voice shook, and the cigar quivered be¬ 
tween his lips while they pronounced that ill-omened 
name. 

“ She’s better than common. General,” was the reply. 
“Just look at her crest. They’re the right sort, when 
they train on like that 1 ” 

* From “ The Bomance of Britomart,” not the least stirring of those 
spirited verses called “ Bush Ballads and Galloping Bhymes,” composed 
by the late A. Lindsey Gordon, and published at Melbourne, Australia, 
1870 . 


37 


38 


SAT AN ELL A 


General St. Josephs and Daisy Walters were 'standing 
on a breezy upland common, commanding one of the fairest 
landscapes in England, backed by a curtain of dusky smoke 
from the great metropolis, skirting two - thirds of the 
horizon. There was heather at their feet; and a sports¬ 
man set down in that spot from the skies might have 
expected to flush a black-cock rather than to hail a Hansom 
cab at only two hours’ distance from its regular stand in 
Pall Mall. 

The black mare, stripped for a gallop, stood ten yards 
off in the glow of a morning sun. That Daisy meant to 
give her a spin,” was obvious from the texture of his 
nether garments, and the stiff silver-mounted whip in his 
hand. 

He had met St. Josephs the night before in the smoking- 
room of a military club, and, entertaining a profound respect 
for that veteran, had taken him into his counsels concern¬ 
ing the preparations and performances of the black mare. 
Daisy was prudent, hut not cunning. The elder man’s 
experience, he considered, might he useful, and so asked 
frankly for his advice. 

The General cared as little for steeple-chasing as for 
marbles or prisoners’-base, but in the present instance felt 
a morbid attraction towards the young officer and his 
venture, because he associated the black mare with certain 
rides, that dwelt strangely on his memory, and of which he 
treasured every incident with painful accuracy, sometimes 
almost wishing they had never been. 


THROUGH THE MILL 


89 


There is a disease, from which, like small-pox, immunity 
can only be purchased by taking it as often as possible in 
its mildest form. To contract it sooner or later, seems the 
lot of humanity, and St. Josephs had been no exception to 
the general rule that ordains men and women shall inflict 
on each other certain injuries and annoyances, none the 
less vexatious because flagrantly imaginary and unreal. 

The General had loved in his youth, more than once it 
may he, with the ardour and tenacity of his character; hut 
these follies were now things of the past. In some out-of- 
the-way comer, perhaps, he preserved a knot of ribbon, a 
scrap of writing, or a photograph with its hair dressed as 
before the flood. He could lay his hand on such memorials, 
no doubt; but he never looked at them now, just as he 
ignored certain sights and sounds, voices, tones, perfumes, 
that made him wince like a finger on a raw wound. To 
save his life, he would not have admitted that the breath 
of a fresh spring morning depressed his spirits more than a 
sirocco, that he would rather listen to the pipes of a High¬ 
land regiment in a mess-room than to a certain strain of 
Donizetti, the softest, the saddest, the sweetest of that 
gifted composer—softer, sweeter, sadder to him, that it was 
an echo from the past. 

Among the advantages of growing old, of which there are 
more than people usually imagine, none is greater than the 
repose of mind which comes with advancing years—from 
fatigue, indeed, rather than satisfaction, but still repose. 

It is not for the young to bask in the sun, to sit over the 


40 


SATANELLA 


fire, to look forward to dinner as the pleasantest part of the 
day. These must be always in action, even in their 
dreams ; but at and after middle age comes the pleasure of 
the ruminating animals, the quiet comfort of content. An 
elderly gentleman, whose liver has outlasted his heart, is 
not so much to be pitied after all. 

Yet must he take exceeding care not to leave go of the 
rock he clings to, like an oyster, that he may drift back 
into the fatal flood of sentiment he ought to have baffled, 
once for all. If he does, assuredly his last state will be 
worse than his first. Very sweet will he the taste of the 
well-remembered dram, not so intoxicating as of yore to 
the seasoned brain; but none the less a stimulant of the 
senses, a restorative for the frame. Clutching the cup to 
drain perennial youth, he will empty it to the dregs, till 
the old sot reels, and the grey hairs fall dishonoured in the 
dust. 

If follies perpetrated for women could be counted like 
runs in a cricket match, I do believe the men above forty 
would get the score. 

“Let me see her gallop,” said the General, with a 
wistful look at the mare, “ and I will tell you what I 
think.” 

He too was a fine horseman ; but he sighed to reflect he 
could no longer vault on horseback like Daisy, nor embody 
himself at once with the animal he bestrode, as did that 
young and supple light dragoon. 

“ I never saw a better,” said the old officer to himself, 


THBOUGH TEE MILL 


41 


as the young one, sitting close into his saddle, set the 
mare going at three-quarter speed. “ And if she’s only 
half as good as her rider, the Irishmen will have a job to 
keep the stakes on their side of the Channel this time! 
Ah, well. It’s no use, we can’t hold our own with the 
young ones, and I suppose we ought not to wish we 
could ! ” 

The General fell into a very common mistake. We are 
apt to think women set a high price on the qualities we 
value in each other, forgetting that as their opinions are 
chiefly reflected from our own, it is to be talked about, no 
matter why, that constitutes merit in their eyes. What do 
they care for a light hand, a Arm seat, a vigorous frame, or 
a keen intellect except in so far as these confer notoriety 
on their possessor ? To be celebrated is enough. If for 
his virtues, well. If for his vices, better. Even the 
meekest of them have a strong notion of improving a sinner, 
and incline to the black sheep rather than all the white 
innocents of the fold. 

In the meantime, Daisy felt thoroughly in his element, 
enjoying it as a duck enjoys immersion in the gutter. 
Free goer as she was, the mare possessed also an elasticity 
rare even amongst animals of the highest class; but which, 
when he has once felt it, no horseman can mistrust or 
mistake. As Daisy tightened his hold on her head, and 
increased her speed, he experienced in all its force that 
exquisite sense of motion which, I imagine, is the peculiar 
pleasure enjoyed by the birds of the air. 


42 


SAT AN ELL A 


Bound the common they came, and past the General once 
more, diverging from their previous direction so as to 
bring into the track such a fence as they would have to 
encounter in their Irish contest. It was a high and perpen¬ 
dicular hank, narrow at the top, with a grip on the taking 
off, and a wide ditch on the landing side. Anything but a 
tempting obstacle to face at great speed. Though she had 
gone three miles very fast, the mare seemed fresh and full 
of vigour, pulling, indeed, so hard that Daisy needed all 
his skill to control and keep her in his hand. Approaching 
the leap, he urged her with voice and limbs. They came 
at it, racing pace. 

Oh, you tailor! ” muttered the General, holding his 
breath, in fear of a hideous fall. ‘‘I’m wrong!” he 
added, the next moment. “ Beautifully done, and beauti¬ 
fully ridden 1 ” 

Even at her utmost speed, the mare sprang upright into 
the air, like a deer, kicked the farther face of the bank 
with such lightning quickness that the stroke was almost 
imperceptible; and, flying far beyond the ditch, seemed 
rather to have gained than lost ground in this interruption 
to her stride. 

Away she went again! Over two more fences, done at 
the same headlong pace, round the corner of a high black 
hedge, down into the hollow, up the opposite rise, and so 
back into the straight, where Daisy, smiling pleasantly, and 
much heightened in colour, executed an imaginary finish, 
with his hands down. 


THROUGH THE MILL 


43 


“ I’ve not seen such a goer for years,’* observed the 
General, as her jockey dismounted, and two stable lads 
scraped a little lather from the mare. ** But she seems to 
take a deal of riding: and I think she is almost too free 
at her fences, even for a steeple-chaser.” 

“I’m delighted to hear you say so,” was the answer. 
“ That's where we shall win. When I had her first she 
was rather cautious; hut I hurried and bustled her till I 
got her temper up, and she puts on the steam now as if 
she was going to jump into next week. I believe she’d do 
the great double at Punchestown in her stride! ” 

The older man shook his head. “ She has capital 
forelegs,” said he ; “ but I saw just such another break its 
neck last year at Lincoln. When they’re so free you must 
catch hold like grim death ; for, by Jove, if they oveijump 
themselves at that pace, they’re not much use when they 
get up again! ” 

“ That would he hard lines,” said Daisy, lighting a 
cigar. “ It’s the only good thing I ever had in my life, 
and it must not boil over. If you come to that, I’d rather 
she broke my neck than hers. If anything went wrong 
with Satanella I could never face Blanche Douglas 
again ! ” 

“Blanche Douglas!” The General winced. It was 
not his habit to call young ladies by their Christian 
names; and to talk familiarly of this one seemed a 
desecration indeed. 

“I should hope Miss -Douglas will never ride that 


44 


SATANELLA 


animal now,” said he, looking very stiff and haughty— 
^‘throaty,” Daisy called it, in describing the scene after¬ 
wards. 

“Not ride her?” replied the young gentleman. “You 
can’t know much of Satanella, General, if you suppose 
she wouldn’t ride anything—ah, or do anything, if you only 
told her not ! She’s a trump of a girl, I admit; but, my 
eyes, she’s a rum one! Why, if there wasn’t a law or 
something against it, I’m blessed if I don’t think she’d ride 
at Punchestown herself—boots and breeches—silk jacket— 
make all the running, and win as she liked ! That’s her 
form. General, you may take my word for it! ” 

St. Josephs positively stood aghast. Could he believe 
his ears ? Silk jacket! Boots and breeches ! And this 
was the woman he delighted to honour. To have anni¬ 
hilated his flippant young acquaintance on the spot would 
have given him intense satisfaction, but he was obliged 
to content himself with contemptuous silence and sundry 
glances of scorn. His displeasure, however, seemed quite 
lost on Daisy, who conversed freely all the way back to 
town, and took leave of his indignant senior with un¬ 
impaired affability when they arrived. 


CHAPTEK VI 


CUTTING FOR PARTNERS 

“ Then you’ll—ask a man ? ” 

“ I’ll ask a man.” 

The first speaker was Miss Douglas, the second Mrs. 
Lushington. These ladies, having agreed to go to the 
play together, the former at once secured adjoining stalls, 
for herself, her admirer, her friend, and her friend’s admirer. 
Only in such little parties of four can the modern drama be 
appreciated or enjoyed. 

Miss Douglas had long promised General St. Josephs 
that she would accompany him to the performance of a 
popular farce called Uncle Jack, whereof the humour 
consisted in an abstraction by “ Boots ” of a certain 
traveller’s garments at his hotel, and consequent engage¬ 
ment of this denuded wayfarer to the lady of his affections. 
The General would have walked barefoot to Canterbury for 
the delight of taking Miss Douglas to the play; and, after 
many missfires, a night was at length fixed for that treat, 
of course under the supervision of a chaperon. 


46 


8ATANELLA 


Like others who follow “ will-o’-the-wisps,” St. Josephs 
was getting deeper into the mire at every step. Day by 
day this dark bewitching woman occupied more of his 
thoughts, wound herself tighter round his weary heart. 
Now for the first time since she died he could bear to 
recall the memory of the blue-eyed girl he was to have 
married long ago. Now he felt truly thankful to have 
baffled the widow at Simla, and behaved like “ a 
monster,” as she said, to the foreign countess wfflo 
used to ride with him in the Park. 

Hitherto he was persuaded his best affections had 
been thrown away, all the nobility of his character 
wasted and misunderstood. At last he had found the 
four-leaved shamrock. He cared not how low he stooped 
to pluck it, so he might wear it in his breast. 

For one of his age and standing, such an attachment has 
its ridiculous as well as its pitiful side. He laughed grimly 
in his grizzled moustache to find how particular he was 
growing about the freshness of his gloves and the fit of 
his coat. When he rode he lengthened his stirrups, and 
brought his horse more on its haunches. He even adopted 
the indispensable flower in his button-hole; but could never 
keep it there, because of his large circle of child-friends, to 
whom he denied nothing, and who regularly despoiled him 
of any possession that took their fancy. There w'as one 
little gipsy, a flirt, three years of age, who could and would, 
have coaxed him out of a keepsake even from Miss Douglas 
herself. 


CUTTING FOB PAETNEB8 


47 


Nobody, I suppose, is insane enough to imagine a man 
feels happier for being in love. There were moments when 
St. Josephs positively hated himself, and everybody else. 
Moments of vexation, longing, and a bitter sense of ill- 
usage, akin to rage, but for the leavening of sadness, 
that toned it down to grief. He knew from theory and 
practice how to manage a woman, just as he knew how 
to bridle and ride a horse. Alas! that each bends only 
to the careless ease of conscious mastery. He could have 
controlled the Satanella on four legs almost as well as 
reckless Daisy. He had no influence whatever over her 
namesake on two. 

Most of us possess the faculty of looking on those affairs 
in which we are deeply interested, from the outside, as it 
were, and with the eyes of an unbiassed spectator. Such 
impartial perception, however, while it increases our self- 
reproach, seems in no way to affect our conduct. General 
St. Josephs cursed himself for an old fool twenty times a 
day, but none the more for that did he strive or wish to put 
from him the folly he deplored. 

It was provoking, degrading, to know that, in presence 
of Miss Douglas he appeared at his very worst; that when 
he rode out with her, he was either idiotically simple, or 
morosely preoccupied; that when he called at her house, 
he could neither find topics for conversation, nor excuses to 
go away; that in every society, others, whom he rated as 
his inferiors, must have seemed infinitely pleasanter, wiser, 
better informed, and more agreeable : and that he, pro- 


48 


SATANELLA 


fessedly a man of experience, and a man of the world, 
lost his head, like a raw boy, at the first word she 
addressed him, without succeeding in convincing her that 
he had lost his heart. Then he vowed to rebel—to 
wean himself by degrees—to break the whole thing off 
at once—to go out of town, leaving no address—to assert 
his independence, show he could live without her, and never 
see her again ! But when she asked him to take her to the 
play, he said he should he delighted, and was ! 

Among the many strange functions of society, few seem 
more unaccountable than its tendency to select a theatre as 
the rendezvous of sincere affection. Of all places, there is 
none, I should imagine, where people are more en evidence 
—particularly in the stalls, a part of the house specially 
affected, it would seem, as affording no protection to front or 
rear. Every gesture is marked, every whisper overheard, 
and even if you might speak aloud, which you mustn’t, 
during the performances, you could hardly impart to a lady 
tender truths or falsehoods, as the case may be, while sur¬ 
rounded by a mob of people who have paid money with the 
view of keeping eyes and ears wide open till they obtain its 
worth. 

Nevertheless, and notwithstanding all these drawbacks to 
confidential communication, no sooner does a fair angler of 
the present day feel that, in fisherman’s language, she ‘‘ has 
got a bite,” than straightway she carries her prey off to a 
minor theatre, where by some inexplicable method of her 
own, she proceeds to secure the gudgeon on its hook. 


CUTTING FOB PABTNEB8 


49 


St. Josephs got himself up with extreme care on the 
evening in question. He was no faded petit maitre, no 
wrinkled dandy, curled, padded, girthed, and tottering in 
polished boots towards his grave. On the contrary, he 
had the wisdom to grow old gracefully, as far as dress 
and deportment were concerned, rather advancing than 
putting back the hand of time. Yet to-night he did 
regret the lines on his worn face, the bald place at the 
crown of his head. Ten years, he thought, rather bitterly, 
only give him back ten years, and he could have held his 
own with the best of them ! She might have cared for him 
ten years ago. Could she care for him now ? Yes, surely 
she must, he loved her so! 

“ Your brougham is at the door, sir,” said his servant, 
once a soldier, like himself, a person of calm temperament 
and a certain grim humour, whose private opinion it was 
that his master had of late been conducting himself like 
an old fool. 

The General got into his carriage with an abstracted air, 
and was driven off to dine nervously and without appetite 
at the Senior United. 

How flabby seemed the fish, how tasteless the cutlets, 
how insufferably prosy the conversation of an old comrade 
at the next table—a jovial veteran, w^ho loved highly- 
seasoned stories, and could still drink the quantum he 
was pleased to call his “ whack of Port.” Never before 
had this worthy’s discourse seemed so idiotic, his stomach 
so obtrusive, his chuckles so fatuous and inane. What 

4 


60 


SATANELLA 


did he mean by talking about fellows of our age ” to St. 
Josephs, who was seven years bis junior in the Army List, 
and five in his baptismal register ? Why couldn’t be eat 
without wheezing, laugh without coughing; and why, oh! 
why could he not give a comrade greeting, without slapping 
him on the hack? St. Josephs, drinking scalding coffee 
before the other arrived at cheese, felt his sense of 
approaching relief damped by remorse for the reserve 
and coldness with which he treated his old, tried friend. 
Something whispered to him, even then, how the jolly 
gormandising red face would turn to him, true and hearty, 
when all the love of all the women in London had faded and 
grown cold. 

Nevertheless, at the doors of the theatre his pulses leapt 
with delight. So well timed was his arrival, that Mrs. 
Lushington and Miss Douglas were getting out of their 
carriage when his own stopped. Pleased, eager as a hoy, 
he entered the house with Satanella on his arm, placing 
himself between that Lady and her friend, while he 
arranged shawls, foot-stools, scent-bottles, and procured 
for them programmes of the entertainment; chary, 
indeed, of information, but smelling strong of musk. 

Need I say that he addressed himself at first to Mrs.' 
Lushington ? or that, perceiving a vacant stall on the other 
side of Miss Douglas, his spirit sank within him while he 
wondered when and how it would he filled ? 

Satanella seemed tired and abstracted. “ Uncle Jack’s ” 
jokes fell pointless on her ear. When St. Josephs could at 


CUTTING FOB PABTNEBS 


5i 


last think of something to say, she bent her head kindly 
enough, but persistently refused to accept or understand 
his tender allusions, interesting herself, then, and then 
only, in the business of the stage. In sheer self-defence, 
the General felt obliged to do the same. 

The house roared with laughter. A celebrated low 
comedian was running up and down before the foot-lights 
in shirt and drawers. The scene represented a bed-room 
at an inn. The actor rang his hell, tripped over his coal¬ 
scuttle, finally upset his water-jug. Everybody went into 
convulsions, and St. Josephs found himself thinking of 
the immortal Pickwick, who “ envied the facility with which 
the friends of Mr. Peter Magnus were amused.” Turning 
to his tormentor, he observed the place by her side no 
longer vacant, and its occupant was—Daisy! 

Mischievous Mrs. Lushington had “ asked a man,” you 
see, and this was the man she asked. 

Captious, jealous, sensitive, because he really cared for 
her, St. Josephs’ vexation seemed out of all proportion to 
its cause. He felt it would have relieved him intensely to 
have it out ” with Miss Douglas—to scold her, take her 
to task, reproach her roundly—and for what? She had 
never asked Daisy to come; she had not kept a seat for 
him at her elbow. From her flushed cheek, her bright 
smile, it could not but be inferred that this was an 
unexpected meeting—a delightful surprise. 

Calm and imperturbable, Daisy settled himself as if he 
were sitting by his grandmother. Not till he had smoothed 


52 


8ATANELLA 


his moustache, buttoned his gloves, and adjusted his glasses, 
did he find time to inform Miss Douglas “that he knew she 
would be here, hut did not think she could have got away 
from dinner so soon; that the house was hot, the stalls 
were uncomfortable, and this thing was not half bad fun 
if you’d never seen it before.” The General, cursing him 
for “a cub,” wondered she could find anything in such 
conversation to provoke a smile on that proud beautiful 
face. 

What was it she whispered behind her fan ?—the fan he 
loved to hold because of the fragrance it seemed to breathe 
from her. He scarcely knew whether to be relieved or 
irritated when he overheard certain questions as to the 
progress of the black mare. It vexed him to think these 
two should have a common interest, should find it so 
engrossing, should talk about it so low. Why couldn’t 
they attend to the farce they had come on purpose to 
see ? 

Mrs. Lushington, although she must have been sur¬ 
feited with that unmeaning and rather tiresome admiration 
which such ladies find floating in abundance on the surface 
of London society, was yet ready at all times to accept 
fresh homage, add another captive to the net she dragged 
so diligently through smooth and troubled waters alike. 
Till the suggestion came from her friend, it had never 
occurred to her that the General was worth capturing. She 
began now in the usual way. 

“What a number of pretty women! ” she whispered, 


CUTTING FOB PABTNFBS 


53 


Don t you think so, General ? I haven’t seen as 
much beauty under one roof since Lady Scavenger’s 
ball.” 

Abstracted though he was, her companion had those 
habits of society which of all others seem to be second 
nature, so he answered:— 

“ There are only two pretty women in the house as far 
as I can see; and they asked me to come to the play with 
them to-night.” 

She had a fascinating way of looking down and up again, 
very quick, with a glance, half shy, half funny, but 
altogether deadly. Even her preoccupied neighbour felt 
its influence, while she replied :— 

‘‘You say so because you think all women are vain, and 
like to be flattered, and have no heart. It only shows 
how little you know us. Do you mean to tell me,” she 
added, in a lighter tone, “ that's not a pretty girl, in 
the second row there, with a mauve ribbon through her 
hair?” 

She was pretty, and he thought so ; but St. Josephs, 
being an old soldier in more senses than one, observed 
sententiously:— 

“Wants colouring—too pale—too sandy, and I should 
say freckled by daylight.” 

“ We all know you admire dark beauties,” retorted the 
lady, “ or you wouldn’t be here now.” 

“ You're not a dark beauty,” returned the ready General; 
“ and I knew you were coming too,” 


54 


SATANELLA 


“ That ‘ too ’ spoils it all,” said she, with another 
of her killing glances. “ Hush! you needn’t say any 
more. If you won’t talk to heVy at least attend to the 
stage.” 

Satanella meanwhile was perusing Daisy’s profile as 
he sat beside her, and wondering whether anybody was 
ever half so good-looking and so unconscious of his personal 
advantages. Not in the slightest degree embarrassed by 
this examination, Mr. Walters expressed his entire approval 
of the farce as it proceeded, laughing heartily at its 
“situations” and even nudging Miss Douglas with his 
elbow, that she might not miss the broadest of the fun. 
Was there another man in the house who could have 
accepted so calmly such an enviable situation ? and did 
she like him more or less for this strange insensibility 
to her charms ? The question must be answered by 
ladies who are weary of slaughter, and satiated with 
victory. 

“Will she win, Daisy?” hazarded Miss Douglas at 
last, in a low whisper, such as would have vibrated through 
the General’s whole frame, but only caused Daisy to 
request she would “speak up.” Repeating her question, 
she added a tender hope that “ it was all right, and that 
her darling (meaning the black mare) would pull him 
through.” 

“ If she don’t,” replied Daisy, “ there’s no more to be 
said. I must leave the regiment. ‘ Soldier Bill ’ gets the 
troop; and I am simply chawed up.” 


GUTTING FOB PABTNEBS 


55 


“ Oh, Daisy,” she exclaimed earnestly, “ how much 
would it take to set you straight?” 

Mr. Walters worked an imaginary sum on the gloved 
fingers of his right hand, carried over a balance of 
liabilities to his left, looked as grave as • he could and 
replied, briefly, “ Two thou— would tide me over. It would 
take three to pull me through.” 

Her face fell, and the rich colour faded in her cheek. 
He did not notice her vexation ; for the crisis of the farce 
had now arrived, and the stage was crowded with all its 
dramatis personcSf tumbling each other about in the 
intensely humorous dilemma of a hunt for the traveller’s 
clothes; but he did remark how grave and sorrowful was 
her “ good-night,” while she took the General’s proffered 
arm with an alacrity extremely gi‘atifying to that love- 
stricken veteran. She had never before seemed so womanly, 
so tender, so confiding. St. Josephs, pressing her elbow 
very cautiously against his heating heart, almost fancied the 
pressure returned. He was sure her hand clung longer 
than usual in his clasp when the time came to say 

Good-bye.” 

In spite of a headache and certain angry twinges of 
rheumatism, this gallant officer had never felt so happy in 
his life. 


CHAPTER VII 


GETTING ON 

Outside the theatre the pavement was dry, the air seemed 
frosty, and the moon shone bright and cold. With head 
down, hands in pockets, and a large cigar in his mouth, 
Daisy meditated gravely enough on the untoward changes a 
lowered temperature might produce in his own fortunes. 
Hard gi’ound would put a stop to Satanella’s gallops, and 
the horses trained in Ireland—where it seldom freezes— 
would have an unspeakable advantage. Thinking of the 
black mare somehow reminded him of Miss Douglas, and 
pacing thoughtfully along Pall Mall, he recalled their first 
meeting, tracing through many an hour of sunshine and 
lamplight the links that had riveted their intimacy and 
made them fast friends. 

It was almost two years ago—though it seemed like 
yesterday—that, driving the regimental coach to Ascot, he 
had stopped his team with considerable risk at an awkward 
turn on the Heath, to make room for her pony-carriage; a 
courtesy soon followed by an introduction in the enclosure. 


GETTING ON 


not without many thanks and acknowledgments from 
fair charioteer and her companion. He could rememl 
how she kept him talking till it was too late to back Judec 
for the Cup, and recalled his own vexation when tha. 
gallant animal galloped freely in, to the delight of the 
chosen people. 

He had not forgotten how she asked him to call on her 
in London, nor how he went riding with her in the 
morning, meeting her at balls and parties by night, 
inaugurating a pic-nic at Hampton Court for her especial 
benefit, while always esteeming her the nicest girl out, 
and the best horse-woman in the world. He would 
have liked her to be his sister, or his sister-in-law; but 
of marrying her himself, the idea never entered Daisy’s 
head. Thinking of her now, with her rich beauty, and 
her bright black hair, he neither sighed nor smiled. 
He was calculating how he could “ put her on ’’for a good 
stake, and send her back their mutual favourite none the 
worse in limbs or temper for the great race he hoped to win! 

All Light Dragoons are not equally susceptible, and 
Mr. Walters was a difficult subject, partly from his 
active habits of mind and body, partly from the energy 
with which he threw himself into the business of the 
moment whatever it might be. 

Satanella’s work, her shoeing, her food, her water, 
were such engrossing topics now, that, but for her con¬ 
nection with the mare, the lady from whom that animal 
took its name would have had no chance of occupying 


SATANELLA 


i^lace in his thoughts. He had got back to the 
"obahility of frost, and the possibility of making a tan- 
.allop, when he turned out of St. James’s Street into 
one of those pleasant haunts where men congregate after 
nightfall to smoke and talk, accosting each other with the 
easy good-fellowship that springs from community of 
tastes, and generous dinners washed down with rosy 
wine. 

Notwithstanding the time of year, a member in his 
shirt-sleeves was sprawling over the billiard-table; a 
dozen more were sprinkled about the room. Acclamations, 
less loud than earnest, greeted Daisy’s entrance, and 
tumblers of cunning drinks were raised to bearded lips, in 
mute hut hearty welcome. 

‘‘ You young beggar, you’ve made me miss my stroke ! ” 
exclaimed the billiard-player, failing egregiously to score 
an obvious and easy hazard. ‘‘ Daisy, you’re always in 
the way, and you’re always welcome. But what are you 
doing out of the Shires in such weather as this?” 

“ Daisy never cared a hang for huntingy' said a tall, 
stout man on the sofa. “ He’s only one of your galloping 
Brummagem sportsmen, always amongst the hounds. How 
many couples have you scored now, this season—tell the 
truth, my boy—off your own bat ? ” 

“ More than you have of foxes, counting those that 
were fairly killed,” answered Daisy calmly. “ And that 
is not saying much. Seriously, Jack, something must be 
done about those homids of yours. I’m told they’ve 


GETTING ON 


69 


got so slow you have to meet at half-past ten, and neve: 
get home till after dark. I suppose if once you began 
to draft there would he nothing left in the kennel but 
the terrier!” 

You be hanged 1 ” answered the big man, laughing. 
‘‘ You conceited young devil, you think you’re entitled 
to give an opinion because you’re not afraid to ride. 
And, after all, you can’t half do that, unless the places 
are flagged out for you in the fences I If you cared two 
straws about the real sport, you wouldn’t be in London 
now.” 

“How can I hunt without horses?” replied Daisy, 
burying his fair young face in an enormous beaker. 

All hounds are not like yours, you know. Thick shoes 
and gaiters make a capital mount in some countries; but 
if I am to put on boots and breeches I want to go faster 
than a Paddy driving a pig. That’s why I’ve never been 
to pay you a visit.” 

“ D—m your impudence I ” was all the other could find 
breath to retort, adding, after a pause of admiration, 
“What a beggar it is to chaff! But I won’t let you 
off all the same. Come to me directly after Northampton. 
It’s right in your way home.” 

“ Nothing I should like better,” answered Daisy. “But 
it can’t be done. I’m due at Punchestown on the seven¬ 
teenth, and I ought to be in Ireland at least a fortnight 
before the races.” 

“ At Punchestown ! ” exclaimed half-a-dozen voices. 


60 


SATANELLA 


“ There’s something up! You’ve got a good thing, 
cut and dried. It’s no use, Daisy! Tell us all about 
it!” 

Walters turned from one to another with an expression 
of innocent surprise. He looked as if he had never heard 
of a steeplechase in his life. 

“I don’t know what you fellows call ^ a good thing,’ ” 
said he. When I drop into one I’ll put you all on, you 
may be sure. No. I must he at Punchestown simply 
because I’ve got to ride there.” 

“ I’m sorry for the nag,” observed the billiard-player, 
who had finished (and lost) his game. “ What is it? ” 

“She’s a mare none of you ever heard of,” answered 
Daisy. “ They call her Satanella. She can gallop a little, 
I think.” 

“Is she going for this new handicap? ” asked a shrill 
voice out of a cloud of tobacco smoke in the corner. 

“It’s her best chance, if she ever comes to the post,” 
replied Daisy. “ They’re crushing weights, though, and 
the course is over four miles.” 

“ Back her, me boy 1 And I’ll stand in with ye 1 ” 
exclaimed an Irish peer, handsome in spite of years, jovial 
in spite of gout, good-hearted in spite of fashion, and good- 
humoured in spite of everything. “ Is she an Irish-bred 
one ? Koscommon did ye say ? Ah, now, back for a 
monkey, and I’ll go ye halves! We’ll let them see how 
we do’t in Kildare ! ” 

Daisy would have liked nothing better; but people do 


GETTING ON 


61 


not lay ‘‘ monkeys ” on steeplechases at one o’clock in the 
morning. Nevertheless curiosity had been excited about 
Satanella, and his cross-examination continued. 

“Is she thoroughbred? ” asked a cornet of the house¬ 
hold cavalry, whose simple creed for man and beast, or 
rather horse and woman, was summed up in these two 
articles—blood and good looks. 

“ Thoroughbred ? ” repeated Daisy thoughtfully. “ Her 
sire is I’m sure, and she’s out of a * Connemara mare,’ 
as they say in Ireland, whatever that may be.” 

“J know” observed the peer, with a wink. “Ah, ye 
divil, ye’ve got your lesson perfect annyhow.” 

“Do you want to hack her?” asked a tall, thin man, 
who had hitherto kept silence, drawing at the same time a 
very business-like betting-book from his breast-pocket. 

“ You ought to lay long odds,” answered Daisy. “ The 
race will fill well. There are sure to be a lot of starters, and 
no end of falls. Hang it! I suppose I am bound to have 
something on. I’ll tell you what. I’ll take twelve to one 
in hundreds—there ! ” 

“ I’ll lay you ten,” said the other. 

“ Done ! ” replied Daisy. “ A thousand to a hundred.” 
And he entered it methodically in his hook, looking round, 
pencil in mouth, to know “ if anybody would do it again ? ” 
“I’ll lay you eight to one in ponies.” Daisy nodded, 
and put down the name of the billiard-player. “ And I in 
tens!” exclaimed another. “And I don’t mind laying 
you seven I ” screamed a shrill voice from the corner, “if 


62 


SATANELLA 


you’ll have it in fifties.” Whereat Daisy shook his head, 
hut accepted the offer nevertheless ere he shut up his book, 
observing calmly that “ he was full now, and must have 
something more to drink.” 

‘‘And who does this mare belong to?” asked a man 
who had just come in. “It’s a queer game, steeplechasing, 
even with gentlemen up. I like to know something about 
owners before I back my little fancy, for or against.” 

“ Well, she’s more mine than anybody else’s,” answered 
Daisy, buttoning his overcoat to depart. “ There’s only 
one thing certain about her, and that is—she’ll start if 
she’s alive, and she’ll win if she can ! ” 

With these words he disappeared through the swing- 
doors into the empty street, walking leisurely homeward, 
with the contented step of one who has done a good day’s 
work, and earned his repose. 

In Piccadilly he met a drunken woman; in Curzon 
Street, a single policeman; by Audley Square a libertine 
cat darted swiftly and noiselessly across his path. Work¬ 
ing steadily northward, he perceived another passenger on 
the opposite side of the way. Passing under a lamp, this 
figure, in spite of hat pushed down and collar pulled up, 
proved to be none other than St. Josephs, wrapped in a 
brown study, and proceeding as slowly as if it was the 
hottest night in June. 

“Now what can he be up to? ” thought Daisy, deeming 
it unnecessary to cross over at so late an hour for polite 
salutation. “ Ought to have had his nose under the 


GETTING ON 


63 


blankets long ago. It must be something very good to 
take an old duffer like that out in an east wind at two in 
the morning. Might have sown his wild oats by this time, 
one would think! Well, it’s no business of mine, only I 
hope he wears flannel next his skin, and won’t catch cold. 
It would almost serve him right, too, if he did ! ” 

Sticking his hands in his pockets, Daisy shook his head 
in virtuous disapproval of his senior, never dreaming that a 
man of the General’s age could be fool enough to pace a 
wind-swept street under a lady’s window for an hour after 
she had retired to bed. 


CHAPTER YIII 


INSATIABLE 


‘‘ My Dear General, 

“As I know it is impossible to catch you for luncheon, 
come and see me at three, before I go out. 

“ Yours most sincerely, 

“ Clara Lushington.” 

No date, of course. The General, nevertheless, ordered 
his hack at half-past two, in confident expectation of 
finding his correspondent at home. 

He was ushered into, perhaps, the prettiest houdoir in 
London—a nest of muslin, fillagree, porcelain, and exotics, 
with a miniature aviary in one window, a miniature aquarium 
in the other, a curtain over the door, and a fountain 
opposite the fire-place. Here he had an opportunity of 
admiring her taste before the fair owner appeared, 
examining in turn all the ornaments on her chimney-piece 
and writing-table, amongst which, with pardonable ostenta¬ 
tion, a beautifully-mounted photograph of her husband was 
put in the most conspicuous place. 


INSATIABLE 


65 


He was considering what on earth could have induced 
her to marry its original, when the door opened for the 
lady in person, who appeared, fresh, smiling, and exceed¬ 
ingly well-dressed. Though she had kept her visitor 
waiting, he could not grudge the time thus spent when he 
observed how successfully it had been turned to account. 

‘‘You got my note,” said she, pulling a low chair for 
him close to the sofa on which she seated herself. “I 
wonder, if you wondered why I wanted to see you ! ” 

The experience of St. Josephs had taught him it is well 
to let these lively fish run out plenty of line before they are 
checked, so he bowed, and said, “ He hoped she had found 
something in which he could be of use.” 

“Use!” repeated the lady. “Then you want me to 
think you consider yourself more useful than ornamental. 
General, I should like to know if you are the least bit 
vain?” 

“A little, perhaps, of your taking me up,” he replied, 
laughing ; “ of nothing else, I think, in the world.” 

She stole a glance at him from under her eyelashes, 
none the less effective that these had been darkened before 
she came down. “ And yet, I am sure, you might be,” 
she said softly, with something of a sigh. 

The process, he thought, was by no means unpleasant; 
a man could undergo it a long time without being tired. 

“Do you know I’m interested about you?” she 
continued, looking frankly in his face. “For your own 
sake—a little; for somebody else’s—a great deal. Have 

6 


66 


8ATANELLA 


you never heard of flowers that waste their ‘ sweetness on 
the desert air ? ’ ” 

And blush unseen ? ” he replied. “ I’m blushing now. 
Don’t you think it’s becoming? ” 

“Do he serious ! ” she interposed, laying a slim white 
hand on his sleeve. “ I tell you I have your welfare at 
heart. That’s the reason you are here now. If I cannot 
be happy myself, at least I like to help others. Everybody 
ought to marry the right person. Don’t you think so ? 
You’ve got a right person. Why don’t you marry 
her ? ” 

Watching him narrowly, she perceived, by the catch of 
his breath, the quiver of his eye-lid, that for all his self- 
command her thrust had gone straight home. 

His was too manly a nature to deny its allegiance. 

“Do you think she would have me,” said he simply and 
frankly, “ if I was to ask her? ” 

Mrs. Lushington never liked him better than now. To 
this worldly, weary, manoeuvring woman, there was some¬ 
thing inexpressibly refreshing in his unaffected self¬ 
depreciation. “ What a fool the girl is! ” she thought; 
“ why, she ought to jump at him! ” But what she said, 
was—“ Qui cherche trouve. If you don’t put the question, 
how can you expect to have an answer? Are you so spoilt, 
my dear General, that you expect women to drop into your 
mouth like over-ripe fruit? What we enjoy is, to be 
worried and teased over and over again, till at last we are 
bored into saying “ Yes ” in sheer weariness, and to get 


INSATIABLE 


67 


rid of the subject. How can you be refused, much more 
accepted, if you won’t even make an offer? ” 

“ Do you know what it is to care for somebody very 
much?” said he, smoothing his hat with his elbow, as a 
village-maiden on the stage plaits the hem of her apron. 
“What you suggest, seems the boldest game, no doubt; 
but it is like putting all one’s fortune on a single throw. 
Suppose the dice come up against me—can you wonder I 
am a little afraid to lift the box ? ” 

“ I cannot fancy you afraid of anything,” she answered 
with an admiring glance; “ not even of failure, though it 
would probably be a new sensation. You know what Mr. 
Walters says—(he winced, and she saw it)—‘When you go 
to a fighting-house, you should take a fighting man.’ So 
I say, ‘When you are in a tangle about women, ask a 
woman to get you out of it.’ Put yourself in my hands, 
and when you dress for dinner, you shall be a proud and a 
happy General! ” 

His face brightened. “I shoidd be very happy,” said 
he, “I honestly confess, if Miss Douglas would consent to 
be my wife. Do you advise me to ask her at once ? ” 
“This very day, without losing a minute!” was the 
answer. “ Let me have to congratulate her, when I call 
to drive her out at half-past five.” 

The General looked at the clock, smoothing his hat 
more vigorously than ever. “It’s nearly four now,” said 
he, in a faltering voice. “ Mrs. Lushington, I am really 
most grateful. It’s too kind of you to take such an 


68 


SATANELLA 


interest in my affairs. Would you mind telling me? 
Women understand these things much better than men. 
If you were in my place, do you think I ought ? I mean 
what is the best plan ? In short, would you advise me to 
call, and ask her point-blank, or to—write a line, you 
know—very explicit and respectful, of course, and tell the 
servant to wait for an answer? ” 

She was very near laughing in his face, hut mastered her 
gravity, after a moment’s reflection, and observed sen- 
tentiously— 

“Perhaps in your case a few lines would he best. You 
can write them here if you like, or at your club. The 
shorter the better. And,” she added, shaking hands with 
him very kindly, while he rose to take leave, “ whichever 
way it goes, you will let me know the result.” 

As the street-door closed, she opened her blotting-book, 
and scribbled off the following dispatch— 

“Dearest Blanche, 

“Alarms! A skirmish! I write to put you on your 
guard. The General, your General, has been here for an 
hour. He seems to have made up his mind, so prepare 
yourself for it at any moment. I think you ought to 
accept him. He would relapse into a quiet, kind, and 
respectable husband. Your own position, too, would be 
improved and what I call established. Don’t be obstinate, 
there’s a dear. In haste. Ever your own loving 

“ Clara L-, 



INSATIABLE 


69 


You mustn’t forget you dine here. Nobody but our¬ 
selves, Uncle John, the two Gordon girls (Bessie has 
grown so pretty), and Daisy Walters, who starts for 
Ireland to-morrow. As soon after eight as you can.” 

Then she rang the bell, and sent off her note with 
directions for its immediate transmission. Henry must 
take it at once. If Miss Douglas was not at home, let 
him find out where she had gone, and follow her. There 
was no answer. Only he must he quite sure she got it;— 
and pretty Mrs. Lushington sank back on her sofa, with 
the pleasing reflection that she had done what she called 

a neat stroke of business, vigorous, conclusive, and com¬ 
promising nobody if it was ever found out! ” 

She saw her way now clearly enough. On Satanella’s re¬ 
fusal of her veteran admirer, she calculated as surely as on 
her acceptance of an invitation to meet Daisy at dinner, par¬ 
ticularly with so dangerous a competitor as Bessie Gordon 
in the field. That last touch she considered worthy of her 
diplomacy. But, judging by herself, she was of opinion 
that Miss Douglas would so modify her negative as to 
retain the General in the vicinity of her charms, contem¬ 
plating from day to day the fair prospect that was never to 
be his own. In such an ignominious state men are to he 
caught on the rebound, and he must ere long prove an easy 
victim to her kinder fascinations, take his place, sub¬ 
missively enough, with the other captives in the train of 
his conqueror. It would be very nice, she thought, to 


70 


SATANELLA 


secure him, and after that she could turn her attention to 
Daisy, for Mrs. Lushington was never so happy as when 
she had succeeded in detaching a gentleman from the lady 
of his affections, if, in so doing, she inflicted on the latter 
the sorrow of a wounded spirit and the pain of a vexed 
heart. 

Therefore had she many enemies of her own sex, ever on 
the watch to catch her tripping, and once down must have 
expected no quarter from these gentle combatants. 

A generous, masculine-minded woman, who is above 
these pretty vanities and rivalries, enjoys considerable 
immunity in that society, of which the laws are made by 
her sisters-in-arms, but they will not forgive the greedy, 
unreasonable spoiler, who eyes, covets, and abstracts the 
property of others—who, to use their own expressive words, 
“ takes their men from them, while all the time she has 
got enough and to spare of her own! ” 


CHAPTER IX 

OFF AND ON 

But even a woman cannot calculate with certainty on what 
another woman will or will not do under given circumstances. 
The greatest generals have been defeated by unforeseen 
obstacles. A night’s rain or a sandy road may foil the 
wisest strategy, destroy the nicest combinations. 

Miss Douglas never came to dinner after all, and Daisy, 
too, was absent. Mrs. Lushington, outwardly deploring 
the want of a ‘‘young man” for the “Gordon girls,” 
inwardly puzzled her brains to account for the joint 
desertion of her principal performers, a frightful suspicion 
crossing her mind that she might have been too vigorous 
in her measures, and so frightened Satanella into carrying 
Daisy off with her, nolens volens, once for all. She had 
short notes of excuse, indeed, from both; but with these 
she was by no means satisfied : the lady pleading head¬ 
ache, the gentleman a pre-engagement, since called to 
mind—this might mean anything. But if they had gone 
away together, she thought, never would she meddle in 
such matters again ! 


71 


72 


SATANELLA 


Not till dinner was over, and Bessie Gordon had sat 
down to sing plaintive ballads in the drawing-room, did 
she feel reassured; but the last post brought a few lines 
from the General in fulfilment of his pledge to let her 
know how his wooing had sped. 

‘‘ Congratulate me,” he wrote, ‘‘my dear Mrs. Lushing- 
ton, on having taken your advice. You were right about 
procrastination ” (the General loved a long word, and was 
indeed somewhat pompous when he put pen to paper). 
“ I am convinced that but for your kind counsels I should 
hardly have done justice to myself or the lady for whom I 
entertain so deep and lasting a regard. I feel I may now 
venture to hope time will do much—constant devotion 
more. At some future period, not far distant, it may be 
my pride to present to you your beautiful young charge 
in a new character, as the wife of your obliged and sincere 
friend —^V. St. Josephs.” 

“V. St. Josephs?” repeated Mrs. Lushington. “I 
wonder what V. stands for. Valentine, if I remember 
right. And I wonder what on earth he means me to 
gather from his letter! I cannot make head or tail of it. 
If she has accepted him, what makes him talk about time 
and devotion? If she has refused him, surely he never 
can intend to persevere! Blanche, Blanche! if you’re 
playing a double game, it will be the worse for you, and 
I’ll never trust a woman with dark eyes again ! ” 

The Gordon girls, going home in their hired brougham, 
voted that “ dear Mrs. Lushington had one of her head- 


OFF AND ON 


73 


aches; that Mr. L. was delightful; that after all, it 
seemed very selfish of Clara not to have secured them 
a couple of men; finally, that they had spent a stupid 
evening, and would be too glad to go to bed! ” 

All details of love-making are probably much alike, nor 
is there great room for variety in the putting of that direct 
question, to which the path of courtship necessarily con¬ 
ducts its dupe. General St. Josephs kept no copy of the 
letter in which he solicited Miss Douglas to become his 
wife. That lady tore it immediately into shreds, that 
went fluttering up the chimney. Doubtless it was sincere 
and dignified, even if diffuse; worthy, too, of a more 
elaborate answer than the single line she scribbled in 
reply 

‘‘ Come and talk it over. I am at home till seven.” 

His courage rose, however, now he had got fairly into 
action, and never had he felt less nervous while dismount¬ 
ing at the well-known door, than on this supreme occasion, 
when he was to learn his fate, as he believed, once for all, 
from the lips of the woman he loved. 

Like most men trained in the school of danger, strong 
excitement strung his nerves and cleared his vision, he no 
longer averted his eyes from the face that heretofore so 
dazzled them; on the contrary, entering the presence of 
Miss Douglas, he took in her form and features at a glance, 
as a man scans the figure of an adversary, while he pre¬ 
pares for attack. 

It did not escape him that she looked flurried and de- 


74 


SATANELLA 


pressed, that her hand trembled, and her colour went and 
came. Arguing favourably from these symptoms, he was 
somewhat disappointed with the first sentence she ad¬ 
dressed to him. 

“ You wrote me a letter. General,” said she, forcing a 
nervous little laugh. “ Such a funny letter! I didn’t 
quite know what to make of it! ” 

A funny letter! And his heart had beat, his eyes had 
filled, his highest, noblest feelings had been stirred with 
every line! 

He was conscious that his bow seemed stern, even 
pompous, while he answered with exceeding gravity— 

“ Surely I made my meaning clear enough. Surely, 
Miss Douglas—Blanche; may I not call you Blanche?” 

“ Yes; if you like,” said she impatiently. “ It’s a 
hateful name, I think. That’s not my fault. Well, 
General, what were you going to say?” 

He looked and indeed felt perplexed. “ I was going to 
observe,” said he, “ that as my question was very straight¬ 
forward, and very much in earnest, so all my future happi¬ 
ness depends on your reply.” 

“ I wonder what there is you can see in me to like! ” 
she retorted, with an impatient movement of her whole 
body, as if she was in fetters, and felt the restraint. 
“ I’m not good enough for anybody to care for, that’s the 
truth. General. There’s hardly a girl in London who 
wouldn’t suit you better than me.” 

He was looking in her face with sincere admiration. 


OFF AND ON 


75 


“ That is not the question,” he replied. Surely I am 
old enough to know my own mind. Besides, you do not 
seem conscious of your power. You could make a bishop 
fall in love with you in ten minutes, if you chose ! ” 

There came a depth of tenderness in her eyes, a smile, 
half sad, half sweet, about her lips, which he interpreted 
in his own way. 

Do you think so ? ” said she. I wish I could believe 
you. I’ve not had a happy youth, and I’ve not been 
brought up in a very good school. I often tell myself I 
could, and ought to have been better, but somehow one’s 
whole life seems to be a mistake ! ” 

‘‘ A mistake I could rectify, if you would give me the 
right,” answered St. Josephs, disheartened, but not de¬ 
spairing. “ I only ask you to judge me fairly, to trust me 
honestly, and to love me some day, if you can ! ” 

She gave him her hand. He drew her towards him, 
and pressed his lips to her cold, smooth brow. No more, 
and yet he fancied she was his own at last. Already half 
pledged, already half an affianced wife. She released herself 
quickly, and sat down on the farther side of her work¬ 
table. 

“ You are very generous,” she said, “ and very good. I 
still maintain you deserve somebody far superior to me. 
How odd these sort of things are, and why do they never 
turn out as one—expects ? ” 

She was going to say “ wishes,” but stopped herself in 
time. 


76 


8ATANELLA 


He would not understand. 

“ Life is made up of hopes and disappointments,” he 
observed. “ You do not seem to hope much, Blanche. I 
trust, therefore, you will have less cause for disappoint¬ 
ment. I will do all in my power. And now, dearest, do 
not call me impatient, fidgetty; but, when do you think 
I may look forward to—to making arrangements in which 
we are to be equally interested? ” 

“ Oh ! I don’t know! ” she exclaimed, with consider¬ 
able emphasis. “Not yet, of course: there’s plenty of 
time. And I’m so hurried and worried, I can hardly 
speak! Besides, it’s very late. I promised to dine with 
Mrs. Lushington, and it’s nearly eight o’clock now.” 

Even from a future help-meet, so broad a hint could not 
he disregarded. The General was forced to put on his 
gloves and prepare for departure. 

“But I shall see you again soon,” he pleaded. “ Shall 
you be at the opera—at Mrs. Cramwell’s—at Belgrave 
House ? ” 

“ Certainly not at Belgrave House ! ” she answered im¬ 
patiently. “ I hate a crush ; and that woman asks all the 
casuals in London. It’s a regular refuge for the destitute. 
I’m not going there yet. I may, perhaps, when I’m 
destitute ! ” 

There was a hard ring in her voice that distressed him, 
and she perceived it. 

“ Don’t look so wretched,” she added kindly. “ There 
are places in the world besides Belgrave Square and 


OFF AND ON 


77 


Covent Garden. What do you say to Punchestown ? It’s 
next week, and I’m sure to be there! ” 

He turned pale, seeming no whit reassured. “ Punches- 
tovui,” he repeated. What on earth takes you to 
Punchestown ? ” 

“ Don’t you know I’ve got a horse to run ? ” she said 
lightly. “ I should like to see it win, and I do not believe 
they have anything in Ireland half as good as my beautiful 
Satanella ! ” 

‘‘Is that all?” he asked in a disturbed voice. “It 
seems such an odd reason for a lady; and it’s a long 
journey, you know, with a horrible crossing at this time of 
3^ear ! Blanche, Miss Douglas, can you not stay away, as 
—as a favour to me ? ” 

There was an angry flush on her cheek, an angry glitter 
in her eyes, but she kept her temper bravely, and only said 
in mocking accents— 

“ Already, General! No; if you mean to be a tyrant, 
you must wait till you come to the throne. I intend to 
show at Punchestown the first day of the races. I have 
made an assignation with you. If you like to keep it, 
well and good; if you like to let it alone, do ! I shall not 
break my heart! ” 

He felt at a disadvantage. She seemed so cool, so un¬ 
impressionable, so devoid of the sentiment and sensibility 
he longed to kindle in her nature. For a moment, he 
could almost have wished to draw back, to resume his 
freedom, while there was yet time; but no, she looked so 


78 


SATANELLA 


handsome, so queenly—he had rather be wretched with 
her than happy with any other woman in the world! 

“ Of course, I will not fail,” he answered. “ I would go 
a deal further than Punchestown, only to he within hearing 
of your voice. When do you start ? If Mrs. Lushington, 
or anybody you knew well, would accompany you, why 
should we not cross over together?” 

“ Now, you’re too exacting,” she replied. Haven’t I 
told you we shall meet on the course, when the saddling- 
hell rings for the first race. Not a moment sooner, and 
my wish is the law of the Medes and Persians—as yet! ” 
The two last words carried a powerful charm. Plad he 
been mature in wisdom as in years, he ought never to have 
thought of marrying a woman who could infiuence him so 
easily. 

“ I shall count the days till then,” he replied gallantly. 
“ They will pass very slowly, but, as the turnspit says in 
the Spanish proverb, ‘ the largest leg of mutton must get 
done in time! ’ Good-bye, Miss Douglas. Good luck to 
you ; and I hope Satanella will win ! ” 

He bowed over the hand she gave him, but did not 
attempt to kiss it, taking his leave with a mingled defe¬ 
rence and interest she could not but appreciate and admire. 

''Why can’t I care for him ? ” she murmured passionately, 
as the street-door closed with a bang. He’s good, he’s 
generous, he’s a gentleman! Poor fellow, he loves me 
devotedly; he’s by no means ugly, and he’s not so very 
old! Yet I can’t, I can’t! And I’ve promised him. 


OFF AND ON 


79 


almost promised him ! Well, come what may, I’ve got 
a clear week of freedom still. But what a fool I’ve been, 
and oh ! what a fool I am I ” 

Then she sent her excuse to Mrs. Lushington, declined 
dinner at home, ordered tea, didn’t drink any, and so crept 
sorrowful and supperless to bed. 


CHAPTEK X 


AT SEA 

In the British army, notwithstanding the phases and 
vicissitudes to which it is subjected, discipline still remains 
a paramount consideration—the keystone of its whole fabric. 
Come what may, the duty must be done. This is the 
great principle of action; and, in obedience to its law, 
young officers, who combine pleasure with military avoca¬ 
tions, are continually on the move to and from head¬ 
quarters, by road, railway, or steam-boat—here to-day, 
gone to-morrow; proposing for themselves, indeed, many 
schemes of sport and pastime, but disposed of, morally 
and physically, by the regimental orders and the colonel’s 
will. 

Daisy, buried in Kildare, rising at day-break, going to 
bed at nine, looking sharply after the preparation of 
Satanella, could not avoid crossing the Channel for 
muster,” to re-cross it within twenty-four hours, that 
he might take part in the great race on which his fortunes 


AT SEA 


81 


now depended—to use his own expression, which was to 
“ make him a man or a mouse.” 

Thus it fell out that he found himself embarking at 
Holyhead amongst a stream of passengers in the mid-day 
boat for Dublin, having caught the mail-train at Chester 
by a series of intricate combinations, and an implicit 
reliance on the veracity of Bradshaw. It rained a little, 
of course—it always does rain at Holyhead—and was 
blowing fresh from the south-west. The sea danced,” as 
the French say ; ladies expressed a fear ‘‘ it would be very 
rough ; ” their maids prepared for the worst ; and a 
nautical-looking personage in a pea-coat with anchor 
buttons, who disappeared at once, to be seen no more 
till he landed, pale and dishevelled, in Kingstown harbour, 
opined first that ** there was a capful of wind,” secondly, 
that ** it was a ten-knot breeze, and would hold till they 
made the land.” 

With loud throbs and pantings of her mighty heart, 
with a plunge, a hiss, a shower of heavy spray-drops, the 
magnificent steamer got under way, lurching and rolling 
but little, considering the weather, yet enough to render 
landsmen somewhat unsteady on their legs, and to exhibit 
the skill with which a curly-haired steward balanced him¬ 
self, basin in hand, on his errands of benevolence and con¬ 
solation. 

Two ladies, who had travelled together in a through 
carriage from Euston Square, might have been seen to 
part company the moment they set foot on board. One 
6 


82 


8ATANELLA 


of these established herself on deck, with a multiplicity of 
cushions, cloaks, and wrappings, to the manifest admira¬ 
tion of a raw youth in drab trowsers and highlows, smoking 
a damp cigar against the wind; while the other vanished 
into the ladies’-cabin, there to lay her head on a horse-hair 
pillow, to sigh, and moan, and shut her eyes, and long for 
land, perhaps to gulp, with watering mouth, short sips of 
brandy and water, perhaps to find the hateful mixture only 
made her worse. 

What a situation for Blanche Douglas! How she 
loathed and despised the lassitude she could not fight 
against, the sufferings she could not keep down ! How she 
envied Mrs. Lushington the open air, the sea-breeze, the 
leaping, following waves, her brightened eyes, her freshened 
cheeks, her keen enjoyment of a trip that according to 
different organisations, seems either a purgatory or a 
paradise! Could she have known how her livelier friend 
was engaged, she would have envied her even more. 

That lady, like many other delicate, fragile women of 
fair complexion, was unassailable by sea-sickness, and 
never looked nor felt so well as when on hoard ship in 
a stiff breeze. 

Thoroughly mistress of the position, she yet thought it 
worth while, as she was the only other passenger on deck, 
to favour the raw youth before-mentioned with an occa¬ 
sional beam from her charms, and accorded him a very 
gracious how in acknowledgment of the awkwardness with 
which he re-arranged a cushion that slid to leeward 


AT SEA 


83 


from under her feet. She was even disappointed when the 
roll of a cross-sea, combined with the effect of bad tobacco, 
necessitated his withdrawal from her presence, to return 
no more, and was beginning to wonder if the captain would 
never descend from his bridge between the paddle-boxes, 
when a fresh, smiling face peeped up from the cabin-door, 
and Daisy, as little affected by sea-sickness as herself, 
looking the picture of health and spirits, staggered across 
the deck to take his place by her side. 

“ You here, Mr. Walters ! ” said she. “ Well, this is a 
surprise ! Where have you been ? where are you going ? 
and how did you get on board without our seeing you ? ” 

‘‘ I’ve been back for ^ muster,’ ” answered Daisy ; I’m 
going to Punchestown ; and I didn’t know you were here, 
because I stayed below to have some luncheon in the 
cabin. How’s Lushington ? Have you brought him with 
you, or are you quite alone, on your own hook ? ” 

“ What a question! ” she laughed. “ I suppose you 
think I’m old enough and ugly enough to take care of 
myself! No, I’m not absolutely 'on my own hook,’ as 
you call it. I’ve given Frank a holiday—goodness knows 
what mischief he won’t get into 1—but I’ve got a com¬ 
panion, and a very nice one, though perhaps not quite so 
nice as usual just at this moment.” 

"Then it’s a lady,” said Daisy, apparently but little 
interested in the intelligence. 

" A lady,” she repeated, with a searching look in his 
face; and a very charming lady, too, though a bad 


SATAmLLA 


sailor. Do you mean to say you can’t guess who 
it is? ” 

Miss Douglas, for a pony ! ” was his answer ; and the 
loud, frank tones, the joyous smile, the utter absence of 
self-consciousness or after-thought, seemed to afford Mrs. 
Lushington no slight gratification. 

“You would win your pony,” she replied gently. “Yes, 
Blanche and I are going over to Ireland, partly to stay 
with some very pleasant people near Dublin, partly—now, 
I don’t want to make you conceited—^partly because she 
has set her heart on seeing you ride; and so have I.’’ 

Practice, no doubt, makes perfect. With this flattering 
acknowledgment, she put just the right amount of interest 
into her glance, let it dwell on him the right time, and 
averted it at the right moment. 

“ She’s a deuced pretty woman! ’’ thought Daisy. “ How 
well she looks with her hair blown all about her face, and 
her cloak gathered up under her dear little chin ! ” He felt 
quite sorry that the Wicklow range was already looming 
through its rain-charged atmosphere as they neared the 
Irish coast. 

“I should like to win,’’ said he, after a pause, “ particu¬ 
larly if you're looking on ! ” 

“ Don’t say me,” she murmured, adding in a louder and 
merrier voice, “ You cannot deny you’re devoted to Blanche, 
and I dare say, if the truth were known, she has made you 
a jacket and cap of her own colours, worked with her own 
hands.” 


AT SEA 


85 


like her very much,” he answered frankly. ‘'It’s 
partly on her account I want to land this race. She’s so 
fond of the mare, you know. Not but what I’ve gone a 
cracker on it myself; and if it don’t come off, there’ll be 
a general break-up! But I beg your pardon, I don’t see 
why that should interest you.'*' 

“ Don't you ? ” said she earnestly. “ Then you’re as 
blind as a bat. Everything interests me that concerns 
people I like.” 

“Does that mean you like me} " asked Daisy with a 
saucy smile, enhanced by a prolonged lurch of the steamer, 
and the blow of a wave on her quarter, that drenched them 
both in a shower of spray. 

She was silent while he wrung the wet from her cloak 
and hood, but when he had wrapped her up once more, and 
readjusted her cushions, she looked gravely in his face. 

“It’s an odd question, Mr. Walters,” said she, “ but I’m 
not afraid to answer it, and I always speak the truth. 
Yes, I do like you—on Blanche’s account. I think you’ve 
a pretty good head, and a very good heart, with many other 
qualities I admire, all of which seem rather thrown away.” 

Daisy was the least conceited of men, but who could 
resist such subtle flattery as this? For a moment he 
wished the Emerald Isle sunk in the sea, and no nearer 
termination to their voyage than the coast of Anticosti, or 
Newfoundland. Alas ! the Hill of Howth stood high on 
the starboard quarter, the Wicklow mountains had risen in 
all their beauty of colour and majesty of outline, grand. 


86 


8ATANELLA 


soft, seductive, robed in russet and purple, here veiled in 
mist, there golden in sunshine, and streaked at intervals 
with faint white lines of smoke. 

“ I’m glad you like me,” said he simply. ‘‘ But how do 
you mean you think I’m thrown away? ” 

“ By your leave ! ” growled a hoarse voice at his elbow, 
for at this interesting juncture the conversation was inter¬ 
rupted by three or four able seamen coiling a gigantic cable 
about the lady’s feet. She was forced to abandon her 
position, and leave to her companion’s fancy the nature of 
her reply. No doubt it would have been guarded, appro¬ 
priate, and to the point. Daisy had nothing for it, how¬ 
ever, but to collect her different effects, and strap them 
together in proper order for landing, before he ran down to 
fetch certain articles of his own personal property out of 
the cabin. 

They were in smooth water now. Pale faces appeared 
from the different recesses opening on the saloon. People 
who had been sick tried to look as if they had been 
sleeping and the sleepers as if they had been wide¬ 
awake all the way from Holyhead. A child who cried 
incessantly during the passage, now ran laughing in 
and out of the steward’s pantry; and two sporting 
gentlemen from the West—one with a bright blue coat, 
the other with a bright red face—finished their punch 
at a gulp, without concluding a deal that had lasted 
through six tumblers, for a certain bay brown harse 
by Elvas—an illigant lepped wan,” to use the red-faced 


AT SEA 


87 


gentleman’s own words, “ an’ the bouldest ever ye see. 
Wait till I tell ye now. He’s fit to carry the Lord- 
Liftinint himself. Show him his fence, and howld him 
if ye can ! ” As the possible purchaser for whom blue- 
coat acted, was a timid rider hunting in a blind 
country, it seemed doubtful whether so resolute an animal 
was likely to convey him as temperately as he might 
wish. 

‘‘ Ah! it’s the Captain,” exclaimed both these sitters 
in a breath, as Daisy slid behind them in search of his 
dressing-case and his tall hat. “ See now. Captain, 
will the mare win? Faith, she’s clean-bred, I know 
well, for I trained her dam meself, whan she cleaned out 
the whole south of Ireland at Limerick for the Ladies’ 
Plate ! ” exclaimed one. 

“ You ride her. Captain,” added the other. “ It’s 
herself that can do’t! They’ve a taste of temper, 
have all that breed; but you sit still, an’ ride aisy. 
Captain. Keep her back till they come to race and loose 
her off then like shot from a gun. Whew! She’ll come 
out in wan blaze, and lave thim all behind, as I’d lave 
that tumbler there, more by token it’s been empty this 
ten minutes. Ye’ll take a taste of punch now. Captain, 
for good luck, and to drink to the black mare’s chance? ” 

But Daisy excused himself, shaking hands repeatedly 
with his cordial well-wishers ere he hurried on deck to 
disembark. 

Moving listlessly and languidly into upper air, the 


88 


8ATANELLA 


figure of a lady preceded him by a few steps. All he 
saw was the corner of a shawl, the skirt of a dress, and 
a foot and ankle; but that foot and ankle could only 
belong to Blanche Douglas, and in three bounds he was 
at her side. A moment before, she had been pale, 
languid, dejected. Nov/, she brightened up into all 

the flush and brilliancy of her usual beauty, like a fair 
landscape when the sun shines out from behind a cloud. 
Mrs. Lushington, standing opposite the companion-way, 
noted the change. Daisy, in happy ignorance, expressed 
the pleasure, which no doubt he felt, at a meeting with 
his handsome friend on the Irish shore. 

No woman, probably, likes anything she does like one 
whit the worse because deprived of it by force of 

circumstances. The fox in the fable that protested the 
grapes were sour, depend upon it, was not a vixen. 
Satanella thoroughly appreciated her friend’s kindness 
and consideration, when Mrs. Lushington condoled with 
her on her past sufferings, and rejoiced in her recovery, 

informing her at the same time that Daisy was a capital 

travelling companion. 

“ He takes such care of one, my dear.” (She spoke 
in a very audible aside,) “ So gentle and thoughtful; 
it’s like having one’s own maid. I enjoyed the crossing 
thoroughly. Poor dear! I wish you could have been on 
deck to enjoy it too! ” 

Done into plain English, the above really meant— 
“ I have been having great fun flirting with your admirer. 


AT SEA 


89 


He’s very nice, and perhaps I shall take him away from 
you some day when I have a chance.” 

By certain twinges that shot through every nerve and 
fibre, Blanche Douglas knew she had let her foolish 
heart go out of her own keeping. If she doubted 
previously whether or not she had fallen in love with 
Daisy, she was sure of it now, while wrung by these 
pangs of an unreasoning jealousy, that grudged his society 
for an hour, even to her dearest friend. 

There was but little time, however, for indulgence of 
the emotions. Mrs. Lushington’s footman, imposing, 
broad-breasted, and buttoned to the chin, touched his 
hat as a signal that he had all his paraphernalia ready 
for departure. Two ladies’-maids, limp and draggled, 
trotted helplessly in his footsteps. The steward, who 
knew everybody, had taken a respectful farewell of his 
most distinguished passengers, the captain had done 
shouting from his perch behind the funnel, and the raw 
youth in highlows, casting one despairing look at Mrs. 
Lushington, had disappeared in the embrace of a 
voluminous matron the moment he set foot on shore. 
There was nothing left but to say good-bye. 

Satanella’s voice faltered, and her hand shook. How 
she had wasted the preceding three hours that she might 
have spent on deck with Daisy! and how mean of Clara 
to take advantage of her friend’s indisposition by making 
up to him, as she did to every man she came near! 

“I hadn’t an idea you were going to cross with us,” 


90 


SATANELLA 


said she, in mournful accents, while he took his leave. 
‘‘Why didn’t you tell me? And when shall I see you 
again ? ” 

“ At Punchestown,” replied Daisy cheerfully. “ Wish 
me good luck!” 

“Not till then!'' said Miss Douglas. And having so 
said in Mrs. Lushington’s hearing, wished she had held 
her tongue. 


CHAPTEE XI 

COBMAC’S-TOWN 

If a man has reason to feel aggrieved with the conduct of 
his dearest friend, he avoids him persistently and sulks by 
himself. Should circumstances compel the unwilling pair 
to be together, they smoke and sulk in company. At all 
events, each lets the other see pretty plainly that he is 
disgusted and bored. Women are not so sincere. To use 
a naval metaphor, they hoist friendly colours when they run 
their guns out for action, and are never so dangerous or so 
determined, as while manoeuvring under a flag of truce. 

Mrs. Lushington and Miss Douglas could no more part 
company than they could smoke. Till they should arrive at 
their joint destination, they must be inseparable as the 
Siamese twins, or the double-headed Nightingale. There¬ 
fore were they more than usually endearing and affectionate, 
therefore the carman who drove them through Dublin, from 
station to station, approved heartily of their nateral affec¬ 
tion,” as he called it, wishing, to use his own words, that 
he was “ brother to either of them, or husband to both ! ” 


91 


92 


SAT AN ELLA 


If they sparred at all, it was with the gloves—light 
hitting, and only to measure each other’s reach. Some day, 
—the same idea occurred to them at the same moment, 
—they meant to “ have it out ” in earnest, and it should 
be no child’s play then. Meantime they proceeded to 
take their places in a fast train which seemed to have 
no particular hour of departure, so long was it drawn up 
beside the platform after the passengers had seated them¬ 
selves and the doors were locked. Miss Douglas possessed 
good nerves, no doubt, yet were they somewhat shaken by 
a dialogue she overheard between guard and station- 
master, carried on through many shrieks and puffings of 
the engine at the first halt they made, a few miles down 
the line. 

‘‘Is the express due, Denis?” 

“ She is. ” 

“Is the mail gone by?” 

“ She would be, but she’s broke intirely. ” 

“ Is the line clear ? ” 

“ It is not. ” 

“ Go on, boys, an’ trust in God ! ” 

Nevertheless, in accordance with an adage which must be 
of Irish extraction, “ Where there is no fear there is no 
danger, ” our two ladies, their two maids, and Mrs. 
Lushington’s footman, were all deposited safely at a 
wayside station in the dark; the last named functionary, 
a regular London servant, who had never before been ten 
miles from the Standard, Cornhill, arriving in the last 


COBMAG'S-TOWN 


93 


stage of astonisliment and disgust. He cheered up, how¬ 
ever, to find a man, in a livery something like his own, 
waiting on the platform, with welcome news of a carriage 
for the ladies, a car for the luggage, and a castle not 
more than three miles off! 

“You must be tired, dear,” said Mrs. Lushington, 
sinking back among the cushions of an easy London-built 
brougham. “But, thank goodness, here we are at last. 
Three miles will soon he over on so good a road as this.” 

But three Irish miles, after a long journey, are not 
so quickly accomplished on a dark night in a carriage 
with one of its lamps gone out. It seemed to the ladies 
they had been driven at least six, when they arrived at 
a park wall, some ten feet high, which they skirted for 
a considerable distance ere they entered the demesne 
through a stately gateway, flanked by imposing castellated 
lodges on either side. 

Here a pair of white breeches, and the indistinct figure 
of a horseman, passed the carriage-window, flitting 
noiselessly over the mossy sward. 

“Did you see it, Blanche?” asked Mrs. Lushington, 
who had been in Ireland before. “It’s a banshee!” 

“ Or a Whiteboy ! ” said Miss Douglas laughing. “Only 
I didn’t know they wore even boots, to say nothing of 
the other things ! ” 

But the London footman, balancing himself with difficulty 
amongst his luggage on the outside car, was mure curious, 
or less courageous. 


94 


SATANELLA 


‘‘What’s that'} ” he exclaimed, in the disturbed accents 
of one who fears a ghost only less than a highwayman. 

“ Which ? ” said the driver, tugging and flogging with 
all his might to raise a gallop for the avenue. 

“ That—that objeck! ” answered the other. 

“Ah! that’s the masther. More power to him!” 
replied the carman. “ It’s foxin’ he’ll have been likely, 
on the mountain, an’ him nivir off the point o’ the hunt. 
Divil thank him with the cattle he rides! Begorra! ye 
nivir see the masther, but you see a great baste ! ” 

All this was Greek to his listener, whose mind, however, 
became easier, with the crunching of gravel under their 
wheels, and the looming of a large, irregular mass of 
building, about which lights were flashing in all directions, 
showing not only that they had arrived, but that they were 
expected and welcome. 

As Blanche Douglas stepped out of the brougham, she 
found her hand resting in that of the supposed banshee, 
who had dismounted not a minute before to receive his 
guests. He was a tall, handsome old gentleman, fresh- 
coloured and grey-haired, with that happy mixture of 
cordiality and good-breeding in his manner, to be found 
in the Emerald Isle alone ; yet was there but the slightest 
touch of brogue on the deep mellow accents that proffered 
their hospitable greeting. 

“ You’ve had a long journey. Miss Douglas, and a dark 
drive, but glad I am to see you, and welcome you are to 
the castle at Cormac’s-town.” 


COBMAG*S-TOWN 


95 


Then he conducted the ladies across a fine old hall, 
furnished with antlers, skins, ancient weapons, and strange 
implements of chase, through a spacious library and drawing¬ 
room, to a snug little chamber, where a wood-fire blazed, 
not without smoke, and a tea-table was drawn to the hearth. 
Here, excusing himself on the score of dirty boots and dis¬ 
ordered apparel, he left the new arrivals to the care of his 
wife. 

Lady Mary Macormac had once been as fresh and hearty 
an Irish lass as ever rode a four-foot wall, or danced her 
partners down in interminable jigs that lasted till daylight. 
An earl’s daughter, she could bud roses, set fruit trees, 
milk a cow, or throw a salmon-fly with any peasant, man 
or woman, on her father’s estate. She slept sound, woke 
early, took entire charge of the household, the children, the 
garden, the farm, everything but the stables, was as healthy 
as a ploughman and as brisk as a milkmaid. Now, with 
grown-up daughters, and sons of all ages, down to a mis¬ 
chievous urchin home from school, her eyes were blue, her 
cheeks rosy as at nineteen. Only her hair had turned 
perfectly white, a distinction of which she seemed rather 
proud, curling and crimping it with some ostentation and 
no little skill over her calm unwrinkled brow. To Blanche 
Douglas this lady took a fancy, at first sight, reserving her 
opinion of Mrs. Lushington for future consideration, but 
feeling her impulsive Irish heart warm to Satanella’s rich 
low voice, and the saddened smile that came so rarely, but 
possessed so strange a charm. 


96 


SATANELLA 


Mrs. Lushington, Miss Douglas, me daughters.” 

The introduction was soon over, the tea poured out, and 
some half-dozen ladies established round the fire to engage 
in that small talk which never seems to fail them, and for 
which the duller sex find smoking so poor a substitute. 

It appeared there was a large party staying at the castle. 
Not that the house was full, nor indeed could it be, since 
only one-half had been furnished : but there were country 
neighbours, who came long distances ; soldiers, both horse 
and foot; a Jackeen ” * or two, sporting friends of Mr. 
Macormac; a judicial dignitary, a Roman Catholic bishop, 
and a cluster of London dandies. 

Mrs. Lushington’s eyes sparkled, like those of a sports¬ 
man who proceeds to beat a turnip field into which the 
adjoining stubbles have been emptied of their coveys. 

How gay you are. Lady Mary,” said she, ‘‘ on this 
side of the Channel! I am sure you have much more fun 
in Ireland than we have in London ! ” 

‘‘I think we have,” answered her ladyship. “Though 
my experience of London was only six weeks in me father’s 
time. I liked Paris better, when Macormac took me there, 
before Louisa was horn. But Punchestown week, Mrs. 
Lushington, ye’ll find Dublin as good as both.” 

“Sure! I’d like to go to Paris next winter, mamma,” 
exclaimed the second girl, with a smile that lit up eyes and 
face into sparkling beauty. “ Just you and me and Papa, 
and let the family stay here in the castle, to keep it warm.” 

* Jackeen—a small squire of great pretensions. 


COBMAC'S-TOWN 


97 


“ And leave your hunting, Norah ! ” replied her mother. 
“ Indeed, then, I wonder to hear you ! ” 

‘‘Are you fond of hunting?” asked Miss Douglas, 
edging her chair nearer this kindred spirit. 

“It’s the only thing worth living for,” answered Miss 
Norah decidedly. “ Dancing’s not bad, with a real good 
partner, if he’ll hold you up without swinging you at the 
turns ; but, see now, when you’re riding your own favourite 
horse, and him leading the hunt, that’s what I call the 
greatest happiness on earth ! ” 

Mrs. Lushington stared. 

“ Ye’re a wild girl, Norah ! ” said Lady Mary, shaking 
her handsome head. “ But, indeed, it’s mostly papa’s 
fault. We’ve something of the savage left in us still. 
Miss Douglas, and even these children of mine here can’t 
do without their hunt.” 

“ I can feel for them ! ” answered Satanella earnestly. 
“It’s the one thing I care for myself. The one thing,” 
she added rather bitterly, “ that doesn’t disappoint you 
and make you hate everything else when it’s over ! ” 

“ You’re too young to speak like that,” replied the elder 
lady kindly. “ Too young, and too nice-looking, if you’ll 
excuse me for saying it.” 

“I don’t/eeZ young,” replied Miss Douglas simply, “but 
I am glad you think me nice.” 

If Lady Mary liked her guest before, she could have 
hugged her now. 

“Ye’re very pretty, my dear,” she whispered, “and I 
7 


98 


SATANELLA 


make no doubt ye’re as good as ye’re good-looking. But 
that’s no reason why ye would live upon air. The gentle¬ 
men are still in the dining-room. It’s seldom they come 
out of that before eleven o’clock; but I’ve ordered some 
dinner for ye in the library, and it will be laid by the time 
ye get your bonnets off. Sure it’s good of ye both to come 
so far, and I’m glad to see ye, that’s the truth ! ” 

The visitors, however, persistently declined dinner at 
half-past ten, p.m.-, petitioning earnestly that they might be 
allowed to go to bed, a request in which they were perfectly 
sincere; for Blanche Douglas was really tired, while Mrs. 
Lushington had no idea of appearing before the claret- 
drinkers at a disadvantage. 

To-morrow she would come down to breakfast rested, 
fresh, radiant, armed at all points, and confident of 
victory. 

Lady Mary herself conducted them to their chambers, 
peeping into the dining-room on her way back, to hear 
about the good run that had kept her husband out so late, 
and to see that he had what he liked for dinner at a side- 
table. Her appearance brought all the gentlemen to their 
feet with a shout of welcome. Her departure filled (and 
emptied) every glass to her health. 

“ Not another drop after Lady Mary,” was the universal 
acclamation, when Macormac proposed a fresh magnum; 
and although he suggested drinking the same toast again, 
a general move was at once made to the music-room, where 
most of the ladies had congregated with tact and kindness, 


CORMAG'S-TOWN 


99 


that their presence might not add to the discomfort of the 
strangers, arriving late for dinner to join a large party at a 
country-house. 

With Satanella’s dreams we have nothing to do. 
Proserpine seldom affords us the vision we most desire 
during the hours of sleep. Think of your sweetheart, and 
as likely as not you will dream of your doctor. Miss Norah 
helped her new friend to undress, and kissed while she 
bade her good-night; but with morning came her own 
maid, looking very cross (the servants’ accommodation at 
Cormac’s-town was hardly on a par with the magnificence 
of the mansion), complaining first of tooth-ache from 
sleeping in a draught; and, secondly, with a certain tone 
of triumph, that the closet was damp where she had hung 
her lady’s dresses in a row like Bluebeard’s wives. The 
morning looked dull, rain beat against the windows, the 
clouds were spongy and charged with wet. It was not 
enlivening to have one’s hair brushed by an attendant 
vexed with a swelled face, that constantly attracted her 
own attention in her lady’s looking-glass. 

Miss Douglas, I fear, had no more toleration than other 
mistresses for short-comings in an inferior. If she passed 
these over it was less from the forbearance of good-humour 
than contempt. The toilette progi-essed slowly, hut was 
completed at last, and even the maid pronounced it very 
good. Masses of black hair coiled in thick, shining plaits, 
plain gold earrings, a broad velvet band tight round the 

neck, supporting the locket like a warming-pan, a cream- 

L. 0. 


100 


SATANELLA 


coloured dress, trimmed with black braid, pulled in here, 
puffed out there, and looped up over a stuff petticoat of 
neutral tint, the whole fabric supported on such a pair of 
Balmoral hoots as Cinderella must have worn when she 
went out walking, formed a sufficiently fascinating picture. 
Catching sight of her own handsome figure in a full-length 
glass, her spirits rose, and Miss Douglas began to think 
better of her Irish expedition, persuading herself that she 
had crossed the Channel only to accompany her friend, 
and not because Daisy was going to ride at Punches- 
town. 

She would have liked him to see her, nevertheless, she 
thought, now in her best looks, before she went down to 
breakfast, and was actually standing, lost in thought, with 
her hand on the door, when it was opened from without, 
and Mrs. Lushington entered, likewise in gorgeous apparel, 
fresh, smiling, beautiful in the gifts of nature as from the 
resom’ces of art; to use the words of a “jackeen”who 
described her later in the day, glittering in paint and 
varnish, like a new four-in-hand coach! ” 

Who do you think is here, dear,” was her morning 
salutation, “ of all people in the world, under this very 
roof? Now guess ! ” 

“ Prester John ? The Archbishop of Canterbury ? The 
great Panjandrum ? How should I know ? ” 

‘‘ I don’t believe you do know. And I don’t believe he 
knows. It will be rather good fun to see you meet.” 

“ Who is it, dear ? ” (Impatiently.) 


COBMAG^S-TOWN 


101 


‘‘ Why, St. Josephs. He came yesterday morning.” 

Blanche’s face fell. 

“How very provoking!” she muttered; adding, in a 
louder voice, and with rather a forced laugh, “That man 
seems to be my fate I Let’s go down to breakfast, dear, 
and get it over I ” 


CHAPTEK XII 

ONE TOO MANY 

At breakfast, for an old soldier, the General showed 
considerable want of military skill. Miss Douglas, indeed, 
assumed an admirable position of defence, flanked by 
Norah Macormac on one side, and the corner of the table 
on the other; but her admirer, posting himself exactly 
opposite, never took his eyes off her face, handed her 
eveiything he could reach, and made himself foolishly 
conspicuous in paying her those attentions to which ladies 
do not object so much as they profess. Like many other 
players, he lost his head when risking a large stake. 

Had he cared less, he would have remembered that 
wisest of all maxims in dealing with others—“ II faut se 
faire valow,'’ and she might have appreciated his good 
qualities all the more, to mark the esteem in which he 
was held by her own sex. The General could fix a woman’s 
attention, could even excite her interest, when he chose; 
and many of these laughing dames would have asked no 
better cavalier for the approaching races than this hand- 


102 


ONE TOO MANY 


103 


some, war-worn veteran, who ^^made such a fool of himself 
about that tall girl with black hair ! ” 

Breakfast in a country house is usually a protracted and 
elastic meal. The “ jackeens,” whose habits were tolerably 
active, came down in good time, but the London young 
gentlemen dropped in, one later than another, gorgeously 
apparelled, cool, composed, hungry, obviously proud of 
being up and dressed at eleven o’clock, a.m. 

Miss Norah whispered to Satanella that “ she didn’t like 
dandies, and dandies didn’t like her / ” 

Looking in the girl’s bright, handsome face, the latter 
proposition seemed to Miss Douglas wholly untenable. 

“ What sort of people do you like, dear ? ” said she, in 
answer to the former. 

‘‘ The army,” replied Miss Norah, with great animation. 
“ And the cavalry, ye know—they’re beautiful; but a man 
must have something besides a fine uniform to please me.” 

“What more can you want?” asked Blanche, with a 
smile. 

“ Well, a good seat on his horse, now,” laughed the 
other, “that’s the first thing, surely, and a good temper, 
and a good nerve, and a pleasant smile in his face, when 
everything goes wrong.” 

“You’re thinking of somebody in particular,” said 
Blanche. 

“ I am,” answered Miss Norah boldly, though with a 
rising blush. “ I’m thinking of somebody I should wish 
my brothers to be like—that I should wish to be like 


104 


SAT AN ELL A 


myself. He’s never puzzled; he’s never put out. Let 
the worst happen that will, he knows what to do, and 
how to do it—a fair face, a brave spirit, and a kind 
heart! ” 

She raised her voice, for the subject seemed to interest 
her deeply. Some of the guests looked up from their 
breakfasts, and the General listened with a smile. 

“It sounds charming,” remarked Miss Douglas. “A 
hero—a paladin, and a very nice person into the bargain. 
I should like immensely to see him.” 

“Would ye now?” said the Irish girl. “And so ye 
shall, dear. He’ll be at the races to-morrow. Ye’ll see 
him ride. I’ll engage he’ll come to the Ladies’ Stand. 
Say the word, and I’ll introduce him to ye myself.” 

“Is he an Irishman?” asked Miss Douglas, amused 
with her animated manner and perfect good faith. 

“ An Irishman ! ” exclaimed Norah. “ Did ever ye hear 
of Walters for an Irishman’s name? They call him Daisy 
that know him best, though mamma says I am never to 
mention him, only as Captain Walters.” 

The shot was quite unexpected, but Blanche knew the 
General’s eye was on her, and she neither started nor 
winced. Scarcely even changed countenance, except that 
she turned a shade paler, and looked sternly in her 
admirer’s face while he carried on the conversation. 

“ Not Captain Walters yet, Miss Macormac,” said the 
old soldier stiffly. “ First for a troop though, and one going 
immediately. I know him very well, hut never heard so 


ONE TOO MANY 


105 


flattering an account of him before. What a thing it is to 
have a charming young lady for a partisan! We think 
him a good-humoured rattle enough, and he can ride, to do 
him justice, but surely—eh?—there’s not much in him. 
Miss Douglas here sees him oftener than I do, what does 
she say? ” 

“ A pleasant companion, quite as clever as other people, 
and a right good fellow ! ” hurst out Blanche, her dark 
eyes flashing defiance. That’s what she says. General! 
And what’s more, she always stands up for her friends, 
and hates people who abuse them! ” 

The General, though he opened his mouth, was stricken 
dumb. Norah Macormac clapped her hands, and Mrs. 
Lushington, looking calmly down the table, afforded the 
discomfited soldier a sweet and reassuring smile. 

Lady Mary, reviewing her guests from behind an 
enormous tea-urn, judged the moment had arrived for a 
general move, and rose accordingly. As, late in the 
autumn, coveys get up all over the ground when you flush 
a single bird, so the whole party followed her example, and 
made for the door, which was opened by St. Josephs, who 
sought in vain a responsive glance from Miss Douglas while 
she passed out, with her head up, and, a sure sign she was 
offended, more swing than usual in the skirts of her dress. 
He consoled himself by resolving that, if the weather 
cleared, he would ask her to take a walk, and so make 
friends before luncheon. 

Gleams of sunshine sucking up a mist that hung about 


106 


SATANELLA 


the hills above the park, disclosing like islands on a lake, 
clumps of trees, and patches of verdure, in the valley 
below, glittering on the surface of a wide and shallow 
river that circled and broke, over its rocky bed, in ripples 
of molten gold, would have seemed favourable to his 
project, but that the fine weather which might enable him 
to walk abroad with his ladye-love, was welcomed by his 
host for the promotion of a hundred schemes of amusement 
to while away a non-hunting day after the shooting season 
had closed. 

“It’s fairing fast enough,” exclaimed the cheerful old 
man. “ We call that a bright sky in Ireland, and why 
not ? Annyhow it’s a great light to shoot a match at the 
pigeons; and if ye’d like to wet a line in the Dabble 
there. I’ll engage ye’ll raise a ten-pound fish before ye’d 
say ‘Paddy Snap.’” 

“ I’ll go bail ye will! ” assented a Mr. Murphy, called 
by his familiars, “ Mick,” who made a point of agreeing 
with his host. “ I seen them rising yesterday afternoon as 
thick as payse, an’ me riding by without so much as a 
lash-whip in me hand.” 

Two of the party, confirmed anglers, proposed to start 
forthwith. 

“ There’s a colt by Lord George I’d like ye to look at. 
General,” continued Macormac, who would have each 
amuse himself in his own way. “ We’re training him for 
the hunt next season, and a finer leaper wasn’t bred in 
Kildare. D’ye see that sunk fence now parting the flower 


ONE TOO MANY 


107 


garden from the demesne ? It’s not two years old he was 
when he broke loose from the paddock, and dashed out 
over it like a wild deer. There’s five-and-twenty feet, bank 
and ditch, ye can measure it for yourself! ” 

Thirty ! if there’s wan ! ” assented Mr. Murphy. 
“ An’ him flyin’ over it in his stride, an’ niver laid an 
iron to the sod! ” 

The General, however, declined an inspection of this 
promising animal, on the plea that he was not much of a 
walker, and had letters to write. 

The post’s gone out this hour and more,” said his 
host. “ But ye’d like to ride now. Of course ye would ! 
See, Mick! Sullivan’s harriers will he at the kennel as 
usual. Wait till I tell ye. Why, wouldn’t the boys get a 
fallow deer off the old park, and we’ll raise a hunt for ye in 
less than an hour ? ” 

“ I’ll engage they can be laid on in twenty minutes from 
this time,” declared Mick. “ Say the word, an’ I’ll run 
round to the stable, and bid Larry saddle up every beast 
that can stand.” 

The General might ride Whiteboy,” said his host, 
pondering, “ and Norah’s got her own horse, and I’ll try 
young Orville, and ye shall take the colt yerself, Mick. 
We’ll get a hunt, annyways! ” 

Mr. Murphy looked as if he would have preferred an 
older, or as he termed it, “a more accomplished hunter; ” 
but he never dreamed of disputing the master’s word, and 
was leaving the room in haste to further all necessary 


108 


SATANELLA 


arrangements, when St. Josephs stopped him on the 
threshold. 

‘‘You’ll think me very slow,” said he graciously. “But 
the truth is, I’m getting old and rheumatic, and altogether 
I feel hardly fit for the saddle to-day. Don’t let me 
interfere with anybody’s arrangements. I’ll write my 
letters in the library, and then, perhaps, take a turn in 
the garden with the ladies.” 

Mick screwed up his droll Irish mouth into a meaning 
but inaudible whistle. Satisfied by the courtesy of his 
manner that the General was what he called “ a real 
gentleman,” it seemed impossible such a man could resist 
the temptations of a pigeon match, a salmon river, above 
all, an impromptu hunt, unless he had nobler game in 
view. Till the old soldier talked of “ a turn in the garden 
with the ladies,” Mr. Murphy told himself he was 
“bothered entirely,” but now, failing any signs of dis¬ 
approval on the master’s face, felt he could agree, as was 
his custom, with the last speaker. 

“Why wouldn’t ye?” said he encom’agingly. “An’ 
finer pleasure gardens ye’ll not see in Ireland than 
Macormac’s. That’s for cucumbers, anyhow! An’ the 
ladies will be proud to take a turn with ye, one and all. 
Divil thank them, then, when they get a convoy to their 
likin’ ! ” 

So the General was allowed to follow his own devices, 
while his host arranged divers amusements for the other 
guests according to programme, with the exception of the 


ONE TOO MANY 


109 


deer hunt. By the time a fallow buck was secured the 
hounds had been fed, and, under any circumstances, Larry, 
the groom, reported so many lame horses in the stable, it 
would have been impossible to mount one-half of the party 
in a style befitting the occasion. 

St. Josephs walked exultingly into the drawing-room, 
where he discovered Lady Mary alone, stitching a flannel 
petticoat for an old woman at the lodge. She thought he 
wanted the Times newspaper, and pointed to it on a 
writing-table. 

“Deserted, Lady Mary?” said this crafty hunter of 
dames, “even by your nearest and dearest. Left, like a 
good fairy, doing a work of benevolence in solitude.” 

“ It is the—the skirt you mean ? ” replied her ladyship, 
holding up the garment in question without the slightest 
diffidence. “ Sure, then. I’ll get it hemmed and done 
with this afternoon. I’d have asked Norah to help me,— 
the child was always quick at her needle,—hut she’s off to 
show Miss Douglas the waterfall: those two by themselves. 
It’s as much as they’ll do to be back by luncheon; though 
my girl’s a jewel of a walker, and the other’s as straight as 
an arrow, and as graceful as a deer.” 

The General’s letters became all at once of vital impor¬ 
tance. Excusing himself with extreme politeness to Lady 
Mary, who kept working on at the petticoat, he hastened 
to the library, where he did not stay two minutes, hut, 
gliding by a side door into the hall, got his hat, and 
emerged on the park, with a vague hope of finding some 
one who would direct him to the waterfall. 


no 


SATANELLA 


The two young ladies, meanwhile, were a good Irish mile 
from the castle, in an opposite direction. Norah, of course, 
knew a short cut through the woods, that added about a 
third to the distance. They walked a good pace, and 
exhilarated by the air, the scenery, and the sound of 
their own fresh young voices, skipped along the path, 
talking, laughing, even jeering each other, as though 
they had been friends from childhood. 

Their conversation, as was natural, turned on the 
approaching races. To Norah Macormac, Punchestown 
constituted, perhaps, the chief gala of the year. For 
those two days, alas! so often rainy, she reserved her 
freshest gloves, her newest bonnet, her brightest glances 
and smiles. To the pleasm-e everybody experiences in 
witnessing the performances of a good horse, she added 
the feminine enjoyment of showing her own pretty self 
in all her native attractions, set off by dress. It was no 
wonder she should impart to her companion that she 
wouldn’t give up the races even for a trip to Paris. She 
calculated their delights as equal to a whole month’s 
hunting, and at least twenty balls. 

Miss Douglas, too, anticipated no little excitement from 
the same source. Her trip across the Channel, with its 
concomitant discipline, a new country, wild scenery, the 
good humour and cordiality that surrounded her, above all, 
the prospect of seeing Daisy again, had raised her spirits 
far above their usual pitch. Her cheek glowed, her eye 
sparkled, her tongue ran on. She could hardly believe 


ONE TOO MANY 


111 


herself the same reserved and haughty dame who was 
wont to ride from Prince’s Gate to Hyde Park Corner, and 
find nothing worthy to cost her a sigh or win from her a 
smile. 

“ Everybody in Ireland goes there, absentees and all,” 
said laughing Norah. ‘‘It’s such fun, you can’t think, 
with the different turn-outs, from the Lord Lieutenant’s 
half-dozen carriages-and-four to Mr. Murphy’s outside car, 
with Mrs. Murphy and nine children packed all over it. 
She never goes anywhere else with him ; hut you shall see 
her to-morrow in all her glory. We like to he on the 
course early, it’s so amusing to watch the arrivals, and 
then we get good places on the Stand.” 

“Can you see well from the Ladies’ Stand?” asked 
Blanche eagerly. “I’m rather interested in one of the 
races. You’ll think me very sporting. I’ve not exactly 
got a horse to run, but there’s a mare called Satanella 
going to start, and I confess I want to see her win.” 

Norah hounded like a young roe. “ Satanella! ” she 
repeated. “ Why, that’s Daisy’s mount! It is to win, 
dear ? Oh! then, if she doesn’t win, or come very near 
it. I’ll be fit to cry my eyes out, and never ask to go to 
a race again.” 

Her colour rose, her voice deepened, both gait and 
accent denoted the sincerity of her good wishes; and 
Miss Douglas, without quite admitting she had just cause 
for offence, felt as a dog feels when another dog is sniffing 
round his dinner. 


112 


SATANELLA 


“ I’ve no doubt the mare will have justice done to her,” 
she said severely. He’s a beautiful rider.” 

A beautiful rider, and a beautiful mare entirely! ” 
exclaimed her impulsive companion. ‘‘Now to think he 
should be such a friend of yours, and me never to know it! 
I can’t always make him out,” added Miss Norah pondering. 
“ Sometimes he’ll speak up, and sometimes he’ll keep things 
back. You’ll wonder to hear me when I tell you I haven’t 
so much as seen this mare they make such a talk about! ’ ’ 

“I have ridden her repeatedly,” observed Miss Douglas, 
with a considerable accession of dignity. “In fact, she is 
more mine than his, and I had to give him leave before he 
ever sent her to be trained.” 

“Did ye, now?” replied the other, looking somewhat 
disconcerted. “And does he ride often with you in 
London—up and down the Park, as they call it? How 
I’d long for a gallop in a place like that, where they never 
go out of a walk! ” 

Blanche was obliged to admit that such rides, though 
proposed very frequently, came off but rarely, and Norah 
seemed in no way dissatisfied with this confession. 

“When he’s here,now,” she said, “if there isn’t a hunt 
to be got up, we gallop all over the country-side, him and 
me, the same as if we’d a fox and a pack of hounds before 
us. It’s him that taught me the real right way to hold the 
bridle, and I never could manage papa’s Orville horse till 
he showed me how. It’s not likely I’d forget anything 
Daisy told me ! Here we are at the waterfall. Come off 


ONE TOO MANY 


118 


the rock now, or ye’ll not have a dry thread on ye in five 
minutes! ” 

Miss Douglas, keeping hack a good deal of vexation, had 
the good sense to follow her guide’s advice, and leaped 
lightly down amongst the shingle from the broad flat rock 
to which she had sprung, as affording a view of the cascade. 

It was a fine sight, no doubt. Swelled by the spring 
rains, and increased by many little tributaries from the 
neighbouring hills, a considerable volume of water came 
tumbling over a ledge of bold bare rock, to roar and brawl 
and circle round a basin fifty feet below, not less than ten 
feet deep, from which it escaped in sheets of foam over 
certain shallows, till it was lost in a black narrow gorge, 
crowned by copses already budding and blooming with the 
first smiles of spring. 

We’re mighty proud of the Dabble in these parts,” 
observed Norah Macormac, when she had withdrawn her 
friend from the showers of spray that quivered in faint and 
changing rainbows under the sunshine. “ There’s not such 
a river for fish anywhere this side the Shannon. And 
where there’s fish there’s mostly fishers. See, now; 
Captain Walters killed one of nine pounds and a half 
in the bend by the dead stump there. He’d have lost 
him only for little Thady Brallaghan and me hurrying to 
fetch the gaff, and I held it while we landed the beast on 
the gravel below the rocks.” 

It was getting unbearable! Blanche had started in 
such good spirits, full of life and hope, enjoying the 

8 


114 


SATANELLA 


air, the scenery, the exercise; but with every word 
that fell from her companion’s lips the landscape 
faded, the skies turned grey, the very turf beneath her 
feet seemed to have lost its elasticity. Norah Macormac 
could not hut perceive the change ; attributing it, however, 
to fatigue, and blaming herself severely for thus tempting 
a helpless London girl into an expedition beyond her 
strength,—anticipating, at the same time, her mother’s 
displeasure for that which good Lady Mary would consider 
a breach of the laws of hospitality,—“ Sure ye’re tired,” 
said she, offering to carry the other’s parasol, which might 
have weighed a pound. It’s myself I blame, to have 
brought you such a walk as this, and you not used to it, 
may be, like us that live up here amongst the hills.” 

But Blanche clung to her parasol, and repudiated the 
notion of fatigue. ‘‘ She had never enjoyed a walk so 
much. It was lovely scenery, and a magnificent waterfall. 
She had no idea there was anything so fine in Ireland. 
She would have gone twice the distance to see it. Tired! 
She wasn’t a hit tired, and believed she might be quite as 
good a walker as Miss Macormac.” 

There were times when Miss Douglas felt her nick-name 
not altogether undeserved. She became Satanella now to 
the core. 

Luncheon was on the table when the young ladies got 
back to the castle, and although several of the guests had 
absented themselves, the General took his place with those 
who remained. St, Josephs was not in the best of humours, 


ONE TOO MANY 


116 


for a solitary walk in a strange district which had failed in 
its object. He sat, as it would seem, purposely a long 
way from Miss Douglas, and the servants were already 
clearing away before he tried to catch her eye. What he 
saw, or how he gathered from an instantaneous glance that 
his company was more welcome now than it had been at 
breakfast, is one of those mysteries on which it seems 
useless to speculate; but he never left her side again 
during the afternoon. 

The General was true to his colours, and seldom ventured 
on the slightest act of disloyalty. When he returned, 
as in the present instance, to his allegiance, he always 
found himself under more authority than ever for his 
weak attempt at insubordination. 


CHAPTER XIII 

PUNCHESTOWN 

“ I TELL ye, I bred her myself, and it’s every hair in her 
skin I know, when I kept her on the farm till she was 
better than three year old. Will ye not step in here, and 
take a dandy o’ punch, Mr. Sullivan ? ” 

The invitation was promptly accepted, and its originator, 
none other than the breeder of Satanella, dressed in his 
best clothes, with an alarming waistcoat, and an exceed¬ 
ingly tall hat, conducted his friend into a crowded canvas 
booth, on the outside of which heavy rain was beating, 
while its interior steamed with wet garments and hot 
whisky punch. 

Mr. Sullivan was one of those gentlemen who are never 
met with but in places where there is money to be made, 
by the laying against, backing, buying, or selling of horses. 
From his exterior the uninitiated might have supposed 
him a land-steward, a watch-maker, or a schoolmaster in 
reduced circumstances; but to those versed in such 


116 


PUNCHESTOWN 


117 


matters there was something indisputably horsey about 
the tie of his neck-cloth, the sit of his well-brushed hat, 
and the shape of his clean, weather-beaten hands. He 
looked like a man who could give you full particulars of 
the noble animal, tell you its price, its pedigree, its defects, 
its performances, and buy it for you on commission cheaper 
than you could yourself. While his friend drank in gulps 
that denoted considerable enjoyment, Mr. Sullivan seemed 
to absorb his punch insensibly and as a matter of course. 

“ There’s been good beasts bred in Roscommon beside 
your black mare, Denis,” observed this worthy; “ and it’s 
the pick of the world for harses comes into Kildare this 
day. Whisper now. Old Sir Giles offered four hundred 
pounds, ready money, for Shaneen in Dublin last night. 
I seen him meself! ” 

“ Is it Shaneen? ” returned Denis, with another pull at 
the punch. “ I’ll not deny he’s a nate little harse, and an 
illegant lepper, but he wouldn’t be in such a race as this. 
He’ll niver see it wan, Mr. Sullivan, no more nor a 
Quaker’ll never see glory! Mat should have taken the 
four hundred! ” 

‘‘ Mat knows what he’s doing,” said Mr. Sullivan; the 
boy’s been forty years and more running harses at the 
Curragh. May be they’re keeping Shaneen to lead the 
Englishman over his leps; and why wouldn’t he take 
the second money, or run for a place annyways? ” 

“ An’ where would the black mare be? ” demanded her 
former owner. ‘‘ Is it the likes of her ye’d see coming in 


118 


SAT AN ELL A 


at the tail of the hunt, and the Captain ridin’ and all! I 
wonder to hear you then, Mr. Sullivan.” 

“In my opinion the race lies betwixt three,” replied 
the great authority, looking wise and dropping his voice. 
“ There’s your own mare, Denis, that you sold the Captain; 
there’s Leprauchan, the big chestnut they brought up here 
from Limerick; there’s the English horse,—St. George 
they call him—that’s been training all the time in 
Kilkenny. Wait till I tell ye. If he gets first over the 
big double, he’ll take as much catching as a flea in an 
ould blanket; and when thim’s all racing home together, 
why wouldn’t little Shaneen come in and win on the 
post?” 

Denis looked disconcerted, and finished his punch at a 
gulp. He had not before taken so comprehensive a view 
of the general contest as affecting the chance of his 
favourite. Pushing back the tall hat he scratched his 
head and pondered. “ I’d be thinkin’ better of it, av’ 
the Captain wouldn’t have changed the mare’s name,” 
said he. “ What ailed him at ‘ Molly Bawn ’ that he’d 
go an’ call the likes of such a baste as that Satanella ? 
Hurry now, Mr. Sullivan, take another taste of punch, and 
come out of this. You and me’ll go and see them saddle, 
annyways! ” 

Leaving the booth, therefore, with many “ God save 
ye’s ” and greetings from acquaintances crowding in, they 
emerged on the course close to the Grand Stand, at a 
spot that commanded an excellent view of the finish. 


PUNCHESTOWN 


119 


and afforded a panorama of such scenery as, in the 
sportsman’s eye, is unequalled by any part of the 
world. 

The rain had cleared off. White fleecy clouds, drift¬ 
ing across the sky before a soft west wind, threw alternate 
lights and shadows over a wild expanse of country that 
stretched to the horizon, in range on range of undulat¬ 
ing pastures, broken only by scattered copses, square 
patches of gorse, and an occasional gully, marking the 
course of some shallow stream from the distant uplands, 
coyly unveiling, as the mist that rested on their brows 
rolled heavily away. Far as sight could reach, the land¬ 
scape was intersected by thick irregular lines, denoting 
those formidable fences, of which the nature was to be 
ascertained by inspecting the leaps that crossed the 
steeplechase-course. These were of a size to require great 
power and courage in the competing animals, while the 
width of the ditches from which the banks were thrown up 
necessitated that repetition of his effort, by which the Irish 
hunter gets safely over these difficulties much as a retriever 
jumps a gate. A very gallant horse might indeed fly the 
first two or three such obstacles in his stride, but the tax 
on his muscles would be too exhaustive for continuance, 
and not to ** change,” as it is called, on the top of the 
bank, when there is a ditch on each side, would be a 

certain downfall. With thirty such leaps and more, 

with a sufficient brook and a high stone wall, with 

four Irish miles of galloping before the judge’s stand can 


120 


SATAN ELLA 


be passed, with the running forced from end to end by 
some tborougb-bred flyer not intended to win, and with 
the best steeple-chase horses in Great Britain to encounter, 
a conqueror at Punchestown may be said to win his laurels 
nobly—^laurels in which, as in the wreath of many a two- 
legged hero, the shamrock is profusely intertwined. 

The boys has got about the big double as thick as 
payse,” observed Mr. Sullivan, shading his eyes under his 
hat-brim while he scanned the course. ‘‘It’s there the 
Englishman will renage likely, an’ if there’s wan drops in 
there’ll be forty of them tumblin’ one above the other, like 
Brian O’Kafferty’s pigs. Will the Captain keep steady 
now, and niver loose her off till she marks with her eye 
the very sod she’s after kickin’ with her fut ? ” 

“ I’ll go bail he will! ” answered Denis. “ The 
Captain he’ll draw her back smooth an’ easy on the 
snaffle, and when onc’st he lets her drive—Whooroo! 
Begorra! it’s not the police barracks nor yet the County 
Gaol would hould her, av’ she gets a fair offer! I tell 
ye that black mare,—Whisht—will ye now ? Here’s the 
quality cornin’ into the stand. There’s clane-bred ones, 
Mr. Sullivan, shape an’ action, an’ the ould blood at the 
back of it all.” 

An Irishman is no bad judge of good looks in man 
or beast. While the Boscommon farmer made this 
observation. Miss Douglas was leaving Lady Mary 
Macormac’s carriage for the stand. Her peculiar style 
of beauty, her perfect self-possession, the mingled grace 


PUNGHESTOWN 


121 


and pride of her bearing, were appreciated and admired 
by the bystanders as, with all her triumphs, they bad 
never been on her own side of the Channel. 

The crowd were already somewhat hoarse with shouting. 
Their Lord Lieutenant, with the princely politeness of 
punctuality, had arrived half an hour ago. Being a hard¬ 
working Viceroy, whose relaxation chiefly consisted in 
riding perfectly straight over his adopted country, he 
was already at the back of the course disporting himself 
amongst the fences to his own great content, and the 
unbounded gratification of The Boys.” Leaping a five- 
foot wall, over which his aide-de-camp fell neck and crop, 
they set up a shout that could be heard at Naas. The 
Irish jump to conclusions, like women, and are as often 
right. That a statesman should be wise and good 
because he is a bold rider, seems a position hardly to be 
reasoned out; yet these wild untutored spirits acknow¬ 
ledged instinctively that qualities by which men govern 
well are kept the fresher and stronger for a kindly heart 
to sympathize with sport as with sorrow, for a manly 
courage that, in work or play, trouble or danger, loves 
always to be in front. 

So the ‘‘more powers” to his Excellency were not 
only loud but hearty, while for her Excellency, it need 
hardly be said of these impulsive, chivalrous and 
susceptible natures, they simply went out of their 
senses, and yelled in a frenzy of admiration and delight. 

Nevertheless the applause was by no means exhausted, 


122 


SATANELLA 


and Miss Douglas taking her place in the ladies’ stand, 
could not repress a thrill of triumph at the remark of a 
strapping Tipperary boy in the crowd, made quite loud 
enough to be overheard. 

See, now, Larry, av’ ye was goin’ coortin’, wouldn’t 
ye fling down your cauheen, and bid her step on to’t? 
I’ll engage there’s flowers growin’ wherever she lays her fut.” 

To which Larry replied, with a wink, “ Divil a 
ha’porth I’d go on for the coortin’—but just stay where 
I am! ” 

Our party from Cormac’s Town formed no unimportant 
addition to the company that thronged the stand. 
Amongst these neither Norah Macormac nor Mrs. 
Lushington could complain they had less than their 
share of admiration, while St. Josephs observed, with 
mingled sentiments of triumph and apprehension, that 
a hundred male eyes were bent on Satanella, and as 
many female voices whispered, But who is that tall girl 
with black hair ?—so handsome, and in such a peculiar 
style! ” 

A proud man, though, doubtless, was the General, 
walking after his young lady with her shawls, her glasses, 
her parasol. Choosing for her an advantageous position 
to view the races, obtaining for her a card of the 
running horses, and trying to look as if he studied 
it with the vaguest notion of what was liliely to win. 

A match had just come off between Mr. McDermott’s 
“ Comether ” and Captain Conolly’s “ Molly Maguire,” 


PVNCHESTOWN 


123 


of little interest to the general public, but creating no 
small excitement amongst friends and partisans of the 
respective owners. ‘‘Molly Maguire” had been bred at 
Naas—^within a stone’s-throw as it were. “Comether” 
was the pride of that well-known western hunt, once so 
celebrated as “ The Blazers.” Each animal was ridden 
by a good sportsman and popular representative of its 
particular district. The little Galway horse made all the 
running, took his leaps like a deer, finished like a game¬ 
cock, but was beaten by the mare’s superior stride in 
the last struggle home, through a storm of voices, by a 
length. 

The crowd were in ecstasies. The gentlefolks applauded 
with far more enthusiasm than is customary at Bedford 
or Lincoln. A lovely Galway girl, with eyes of that 
wondrous blue only to be caught from the reflection of 
the Atlantic, expressed an inclination to kiss the plucky 
little animal that had lost, and blushed like a rose when 
a gallant cornet entreated he might be the bearer of 
that reward to the horse in its stable. The clouds had 
cleared off, the sun shone out. The booths emptied 
themselves into the course. A hungry roar went up 
from the betting-ring, and everybody prepared for the 
great race of the day—“ The United Service handicap, 
for horses of all ages, hond-fide the property of officers 
who have held Her Majesty’s commission within the last 
ten years. Gentlemen riders. Kildare Hunt Course and 
rules.” 


124 


SAT AN ELL A 


Betting, alas ! flourishes at every meeting, and even 
Punchestown is not exempt from the visits of a fraternity 
who support racing, it may be, after a fashion, but whose 
room many an Irish gentleman, no doubt, considers 
preferable to their company. On the present occasion 
they made perhaps more noise than they did business; 
but amongst real lovers of the sport, from the high-bred 
beautifully-dressed ladies in the stand, down to lads 
taking charge of farmers’ horses, and ‘‘raising a lep off 
them ” behind the booths, speculation was rife, in French 
gloves and Irish poplins, as in sixpenny pieces and 
“ dandies ” of punch. Man and woman, each had a 
special fancy, shouted for it, believed in it, backed it 
through thick and thin. 

The race had created a good deal of attention from the 
time it was first organized. It showed a heavy entry, 
the terms were fair, a large sum of money was added, 
public runners were heavily weighted, the nominations 
included many horses that had never been out before. 
In one way and another the United Service Handicap 
had grown into the great event of the meeting. 

The best of friends must part. Denis could not resist 
the big double, taking up a position whence he might 
hurl himself at it, in imagination, with every horse that 
rose. Mr. Sullivan, more practical, occupied a familiar 
spot that commanded a view of the finish, and enabled 
him to test the merits of winner or loser by the stoutness 
with which each struggled home. 


PUNCHESTOWN 


125 


Neither had such good places as Miss Douglas and 
Miss Macormac. Norah knew the exact angle from 
which everything could best be seen. There, like an 
open-hearted girl, she insisted on Blanche taking her 
seat, and planting herself close by. The General leaned 
over them, and Mrs. Lushington stood on a pile of 
cushions behind. She had very pretty feet, and it was 
a pity they should he hid beneath her petticoats. 

A bell rang, the course was cleared (in a very modified 
sense of the term), a stable-boy on an animal sheeted 
to its hocks and hooded to its muzzle (erroneously 
supposed to be the favourite), kicked his way along with 
considerable assurance, a friendless dog was hooted, a fat 
old woman jeered, and the numbers went up. 

‘‘ One, two, five, seven, eight, nine, eleven, fifteen, and 
not another blank till you come to twenty-two. Bless 
me, what a field of horses ! ” exclaimed the General, 
adding, with a gallant smile, “ The odd or the even 
numbers, ladies ? Which will you have ? In gloves, 
bonnets, or anything you please.” 

The girls looked at each other. want to back 
Satanella,” was on the lips of both, but something checked 
them, and neither spoke. 

Macormac, full of smiles and good humour, in boots 
and breeches, out of breath, and splashed to his waist, 
hurried up the steps. 

‘‘ See now, Norah,” said he. ‘‘ I’ve just left Sir Giles. 
He’s fitting the snaffle himself in Leprauchan’s mouth 


126 


SATANELLA 


this minute, and an awkward job he makes of it, by 
rason of gout in the fingers. Put your money on the 
chestnut. Miss Douglas,” he continued. ‘‘Here he 
comes. Look at the stride of him. He’s the boy that 
can do’t! ” 

While he spoke, Leprauchan, a great raking chestnut, 
with three white legs, came down the course like a 
steam-engine. No martingale that ever was buckled, 
even in the practised hands now steering him, could 
bring his head to a proper angle, but though he went 
star-gazing along, he never made a mistake, possessed 
a marvellous stride, especially in deep ground, and, to 
use a familiar phrase, could “ stay for a week.” “ Hie ! 
hie ! ” shouted his jockey, standing well up in his stirrups 
to steer him for a preliminary canter through the crowd. 
“ Hie ! hie ! ” repeated a dozen varying tones behind him, 
as fiyer after fiyer went shooting by—now this way, now 
that—carrying all the colours of the rainbow, and each 
looking like a winner, till succeeded by the next. 

For a few minutes St. Josephs had been in earnest 
conversation with one of the “jackeens,” who earlier 
in the day, might have been seen taking counsel of 
Mr. Sullivan. 

“I’ve marked your card for you. Miss Douglas,” 
said the General. “I’ve the best information from my 
friend here, and the winner ought to be one of these four 
—^Leprauchan, Shaneen, St. George, or Satanella. The 
English horse for choice if he can keep on his legs.” 


PUNCHESTOWN 


127 


“ I must have a bet on Satanella,” exclaimed Miss 
Douglas irrepressibly, whereat the General looked grave, 
and Norab gave her an approving pat on the band. 

Send somebody into the ring, General, to find out 
her price, and back her for ten pounds at evens, if they 
can’t do better, on my behalf.” 

“I’d like to share your wager,” said Norab kindling. 

“And so you shall, dear,” replied Miss Douglas. 
“ You and I, at any rate, want him to win, poor fellow; 
and good wishes will do him no harm.” 

“ Here he comes! ” replied Norah; and while she 
spoke, Satanella was seen trotting leisurely down the 
course, snorting, playing with her bit, and bending to 
acknowledge the caresses Daisy lavished on her beautiful 
neck with no sparing hand. 

The mare looked as fine as a star. Trained to per¬ 
fection, her skin shining like satin, her muscles salient, 
her ribs just visible, her action, though she trotted with 
rather a straight knee, stealthy, cat-like, and as if she 
went upon wires. 

It is the first quality of a rider to adapt himself easily 
to every movement of the animal he bestrides, but this 
excellence of horsemanship is much enhanced when the 
pair have completed their preparation together, and the 
man has acquired his condition, morning after morning, 
in training walks and gallops on the beast. This was 
Daisy’s case. Satanella, to a sensitive mouth, added a 
peculiar and irritable temper. Another hand on her rein 


128 


SAT AN ELLA 


for an hour would undo the work of days. Nobody had 
therefore ridden her for weeks but himself, and when 
the two went down the course at Punchestown together, 
they seemed like some skilful piece of mechanism, through 
which one master-spring set all parts in motion at 
once. 

“He’s an illigant rider,” groaned Mr. Sullivan, who 
stood to win on Leprauchan. “ An’ ‘ a give-and-take 
horseman’s ’ the pick of the world when there’s leps. 
But it’s not likely now they’d all stand up in such a 
‘ rookawn,’ ” * he added, “ an’ why wouldn’t the Captain 
get throw’d down with the rest? ” 

Such admiration was excited by the black mare’s 
appearance, particularly when she broke into a gallop, 
and Daisy with pardonable coxcombry, turned in his 
saddle to salute the ladies smiling on him from the Stand, 
that few but those immediately interested noticed a little 
shabby, wiry-looking horse come stealing behind the 
crack with that smooth, easy swing which racing men, 
though they know it so thoroughly, will sometimes 
neglect to their cost. 

This unassuming little animal carried a plain snaffle 
in its mouth, without even a restraining nose-band. It 
seemed quiet as a sheep, and docile as a dog. There 
was nothing remarkable about it to those who cannot 
take a horse in at a glance, but one of the Household 
left his Excellency’s Stand and descended into the King 
* “Eookawn,” a general scrimmage. 


PUNCHESTOWN 


129 


with a smile on his handsome, quiet face. When he 
returned the smile was still there, and he observed he had 
“backed Shaneen for a pony, and had got four to one.” 

Mr. Sullivan, too, as he marked the little animal 
increase its stride, while its quick, vibrating ears caught 
the footfall of a horse galloping behind it, drew his mouth 
into many queer shapes suggestive of discomfiture, 
imparting to himself in a whisper, ‘ ‘ that if he rightly 
knawed it, may-be Sir Giles wasn’t too free with his offer 
at all, for such a shabby little garron as that! ” 

So the cracks came sweeping by in quick succession, 
St. George, perhaps, attracting most attention from the 
Stand. A magnificent bay horse of extraordinary beauty, 
he possessed the rich colour and commanding size of the 
“ King Tom ” blood, set off by a star of white in his 
forehead, and a white forefoot. No sooner did he appear 
with his scarlet-clad jockey, than the ladies, to use 
Macormac’s expression, were “in his favour to a man ! ” 
The property of a popular English nobleman, a pillar 
of support to all field-sports, ridden by a gentleman 
jockey, capable, over that course, of giving weight to most 
professionals, in the prime of blood, power, and condition, 
he was justly a favourite with the public as with the King. 
In the whole of that multitude, there were probably but 
two individuals who wished he might break his neck at 
the first fence, and these two sat in the Ladies’ Stand. 

“ They’re all weighed and mounted now but one,” 
observed the General, studying his card. “What is it? 

9 


130 


SATANELLA 


Fandango ? Yes, Fandango; and here he comes. 
What a hideous drab jacket! But I say, I’ll trouble you 
for a goer ! Why this is Derby form all over ! ” 

“ He’s a good mile horse anywhere,” said the quiet 
man, who had backed Shaneen; but he’s not meant 
to win here, and couldn’t if he tried. They’ve started 
him to make running for St. George.” 

“ What a pretty sight! ” exclaimed the ladies, as some¬ 
thing like a score of horses, ridden by the finest 
horsemen in the world, stood marshalled before the 
Stand. Though the majority were more sedate in their 
demeanour than might have been expected, three or four 
showed a good deal of temper and anxiety to get somewhere. 
Amongst these Satanella made herself extremely con¬ 
spicuous for insubordination, contrasting strikingly with 
little Shaneen, who stood stock-still, playing with his 
bit, through two false starts, till the flag was fairly down, 
when he darted away like a rabbit, without pulling an 
ounce. Win or lose, his jockey was sure of a pleasant 
ride on Shaneen. 

“They’re really off!” said the General getting his 
glasses out, as a young officer, extricating himself from 
the betting ring, announced, breathlessly— 

“ They’ve made the mare first favourite, and are laying 
three to two ! ” 

“ What’s that in front ?” said everybody. “ Fandango! 
Well, they are going a cracker. Fancy jumping at 
such a pace as that! ” 


FUNCHESTOWN 


131 


Yet not a mistake was made at the first fence. To 
lookers-on from the Stand, all the horses seemed to 
charge it abreast, as their tails went up simultaneously, 
while they kicked the bank like lightning, and darted off 
again faster than before, but turning a little to the right, 
though the ground sloped in their favour, half-a-dozen 
w^ere seen lengthening out in front of the rest, and it 
seemed as if the pace was already beginning to tell. 

“ Fandango still leading,” said the General, scanning 
the race through his glasses, and thinking aloud as 
people always do on such occasions. “St. George and 
Satanella close behind, and—yes—by Jove it is ! the 
little mud-coloured horse, Shaneen, lying fourth. Over 
you go! Ah, one down—two—another! I fear that 
poor fellow’s hurt! Look at the loose horse galloping 
on with them 1 Well done ! They’re all over the brook I 
St. George second I What a fine goer he is I And 
now they’re coming to the Big Double 1 ” 

But the Big Double is so far from the Stand that we 
will place ourselves by the Boscommon farmer on a 
knoll that commands it, and watch with him the gallant 
sight offered by such a field of horses charging a fence 
like the side of a house at racing pace. 

“Augh, Captain! keep steady now, for the love of 
the Virgin! ” roared Denis, as if Daisy, a quarter of a 
mile off, and going like the wind, could possibly hear 
him. “ More power to the little harse ! He’s leading 
them yet! Nivir say it! the Englishman has the fut 


132 


SATANELLA 


of him! Ah, catch hoult of his head, ye omadawn ! 
He’ll never see to change av’ you’re loosin’ him off 
that way! Now, let the mare at it, Captain! She’s 
doin’ beautiful! An’ little Shaneen on her quarters! It’s 
keepin’ time, he is, like a fiddler! Ah, he aisy, you in 
scarlet! By the mortial, there’s a lep for ye ! Whooroo!!! 
Did ever man see the like of that?” 

It was indeed a heavy and hideous fall. St. George 
—whose education in the country of his adoption had 
been systematically carried out —could change his footing 
with perfect security on the narrowest hank that was 
ever thrown up with a spade. To the astonishment of 
his own and every other jockey in the race, his “ on 
and off” at all the preceding fences had been quick and 
well-timed as that of Shaneen himself; but his blood 
got up when he had taken the brook in his stride. He 
could pull hard on occasion. Ten lengths from the Big 
Double he was out of his rider’s hand, and going as 
fast as he could drive. Therefore Denis desired that 
gentleman to “catch hoult;” hut with all his skill—for 
never was man less “ an omadawn ” in the saddle —his 
horse had broke away, and was doing with him what it 
liked. 

Seeing the enormous size of the obstacle before him, 
St. George put on a yet more infuriated rush, and with 
a marvellous spring, that is talked of to this day, cleared 
the whole thing—broad-topped bank, double ditches, and 
* “ You fool! ” 


PUNCHE8T0WN 


133 


all—in his stride, covering nearly eleven yards, by an 
effort that carried him fairly over from field to field: 
nothing hut consummate horsemanship in his jockey—a 
tact that detects the exact moment when it is destruction 
to interfere—enabled the animal to perform so extraordinary 
a feat. But, alas! where he landed the surface was 
poached and trodden. His next stride brought him on his 
head; the succeeding one rolled him over with a broken 
thigh, and the gallant, generous, high-couraged St. George 
never rose again! 

The appearance of the race was now considerably 
altered. Fandango dropped into the rear at once— 
there was nothing more for him to do in the absence of 
his stable-companion, and indeed he had shot his bolt 
ere half the distance was accomplished. The pace 
decreased slightly after the accident to St. George, and 
as they hounded over the wall, nearly together, not a 
man on the course doubted but that the contest lay 
between the first three—Satanella, Leprauchan, and 
Shaneen. Of these, the mare so far as could be judged 
by spectators in the stand, seemed freshest and fullest 
of running. Already they were laying a trifle of odds 
on her in the King. 

Now Daisy had planned the whole thing out in his 
own mind, and hitherto all had gone exactly as he 
wished. In Satanella’s staying powers he had implicit 
confidence, and he intended, from the first, that if he 
could have the race run to suit him, he would win it 


134 


SATANELLA 


about a mile from home. After crossing the wall, there¬ 
fore, he came away faster than ever, the leaps were easy, 
the ground inclined in his favour, and he rattled along 
at a pace that was telling visibly on Leprauchan, who 
nevertheless kept abreast of him, while little Shaneen, 
lying four lengths behind, neither lessened nor increased 
his distance from the leaders, but galloped doggedly on, 
in exactly the same form as when he started. 

“ Never saw a steeple-chase run so fast! ” said 
everybody in the stand. “Why, the time will be as 
good as the Liverpool. ” 

“It can’t go on ! ” thought Leprauchan’s jockey, feeling 
the chestnut beginning to roll, while pulling more than 
ever. “ If I can but keep alongside, she must run herself 
out, and there’s nothing else left in the race.” 

But his whip was up when they made their turn for a 
run in, and he landed over his last fence with a scramble 
that lost him at least a length. 

“ Leprauchan’s beat! ” shouted the crowd. “ Satanella 
wins! It’s all over—it’s a moral. The mare for a 
million ! The mare ! The mare ! ! ” 

Blanche Douglas turned pale as death, and Norah 
Macormac began to cry. 

Satanella was approaching the distance with Leprauchan 
beat off, and Shaneen a length behind. 

Here occurred one of those casualties which no amount of 
care avails to prevent, nor of caution to foresee. 

The crowd in their eagerness had swayed in on the 


PUNCHESTOWN 


135 


course. A woman carrying a child lost her footing, and 
fell helpless, directly in front of the black mare. 

Daisy managed to avoid them, with a wrench at the 
bridle that saved their lives, and lost him some twenty feet 
of ground. In the next three strides, Sheneen’s brown 
muzzle was at his quarters—at his knee—at his breast¬ 
plate. 

Never before had Satanella felt whip or spur. These 
were applied to some purpose, and gamely she answered 
the call; nevertheless, that shabby little horse drew on 
her, inch by inch. 

They were neck and neck now, Shaneen’s jockey sitting 
in the middle of his saddle, perfectly still. 

“ It’s a race ! ” shouted the lookers-on. The little 
’un’s coming up ! He’s gaining on her. Not a bit of it! 
The mare has him safe. Keep at her, Daisy! Now, 
Satanella! Now, Shaneen! Did ever ye see such a 
fight ? Neck and neck—head and head. By the powers, 
it’s a dead heat! ” 

But the judge gave it to Shaneen by a neck, and when 
the numbers went up, though not till then, Daisy and 
Daisy’s backers knew that Satanella had only taken the 
second place. 

Leprauchan and the rest came lobbing in by twos and 
threes. Nobody cared for them. Nobody had attention to 
spare for anything but the shabby little brown horse that 
had beaten the favourite. 


CHAPTEK XIY 
“a good thing” 

PooB Daisy! Everybody was sorry for him, everybody 
except the owner and a few friends who won largely on 
Shaneen, regretted his disappointment, and shrugged their 
shoulders at the heavy losses it was known to have 
entailed. His brother-officers looked grave, but bestirred 
themselves, nevertheless, for the next race. His trainer 
shook his head, glancing wistfully at the spur marks on the 
mare’s reeking sides. The very crowd condoled with him, 
for he had ridden to admiration, and the accident that 
discomfited him was patent to all. Even Mr. Sullivan, 
whose own hopes had been blighted by the defeat of the 
chestnut, expressed an opinion that “ Av’ it could be run 
again, though there wasn’t a pound between them, it was 
his belief the mare would win! ” 

Mr. Walters, however, true to his nature, kept a hold 
face over a troubled heart, yet had a difficult task to 
control his feelings, when he emerged from the enclosure 
after weighing, and found his hand seized by the Roscommon 
farmer in a grip that inflicted no slight physical pain. 

136 


A GOOD THING 


137 


‘^Ah! now, Captain,” exclaimed Denis, who had flung 
himself on a horse, and galloped back from the Big 
Double, just too late to witness the finish. ‘‘ Sure ye rode 
it beautiful! An’ the mare, I seen her myself, come out 
from them all in wan blaze, like a sky-rocket! Bate, 
says they, by a neck ? I’ll niver believe it! Annyv^ays, 
ye’ll need to pay the wagers. See, now. Captain, I parted 
a score o’ heifers, only last Friday was it, by good luck, 
and I’ve got the money here—rale Dublin’ notes—inside 
my coat-tail pocket. Take as much as ye’d be likely to 
want. Captain. What’s a trifle like that betwixt you an’ 
me ? Oh! the mare would have wan, safe enough, av’ 
she had fair play. See to her now, she’s got her wind 
back. Begorra ! She’s ready to go again ! ” 

Daisy was no creature of impulse,—the last man in the 
world to be fooled by any sentiment of the moment,—yet 
tears filled his eyes, and he could scarce find a voice to 
thank his humble friend, while he declined an ofi’er that 
came straight from the farmer’s warm and generous heart. 

Denis looked disappointed, wrung “the Captain’s ” hand 
hard, and vanished in a convenient booth to console him¬ 
self with another “ dandy ” of punch. 

Patting the mare fondly, and even laying his cheek 
against her warm, wet neck, the losing jockey retired to 
change silk and doeskin for his usual dress, in which, with 
his usual easy manner, he swaggered up to the stand. 
Here, as has been said, his defeat excited considerable 
sympathy, and, indeed, in one quarter, positive conster- 


138 


SATANELLA 


nation. Two young ladies had accompanied him through 
the race, with their hearts as with their eyes. When his 
efforts ended in defeat, both were deeply affected, though in 
different ways. Norah Macormac could not refrain from 
tears, hut conscious that mamma was on the watch, hid 
her face in a ridiculously small pocket-handkerchief, 
pretending to sneeze and blow her nose, as if she had 
caught cold. Blanche Douglas, on the contrary, looked 
round fierce, wistful, and defiant, like a wild creature at 
bay. Even Daisy, approaching jauntily to receive his 
friends’ condolences could not but observe how pale she 
was, yet how collected and composed. 

“I’ve not punished her much,” said he, addressing 
himself, in the first instance, to the real owner of the 
vanquished mare. “ She’s as good as I told you. Miss 
Douglas. It was no fault of hers. If I hadn’t been a 
muff I’d have killed the old woman, and won in a canter ! 
Never mind; your favourite, at least, has not disgraced 
her name, and I’m very glad I called her Satanella.” 

She laid her hand softly on his arm, and looked straight 
into his eyes. “ Did you stand it all ? ” said she. “ Is it 
as bad as you said ? Tell me! Quick ! I cannot bear 
suspense.” 

“ Never laid off a shilling,” he answered lightly. “ Never 
even backed her for a place. I swore I’d be a man or a 
mouse, as you know, and it’s come up—mouse ! ” 

“ In two words, Mr. Walters, you’re ruined! ” She 
spoke almost angrily in her effort at self-control. 


A GOOD THING 


139 


“That’s the way to say it!” was his careless reply. 
“ General break up—horse, foot, and dragoons. No 
reason, though, you should call me Mr, Walters,” 

“ Well, Daisy y then,” she murmured, with a loving, 
lingering tenderness on those syllables she was resolved 
never to utter above her breath again. “ You know how 
I hoped you’d win. You know how vexed I am. You 
know—or rather you don’t, and never shall know—that 
it’s worse for me than for you ! ” 

The last sentence she spoke so low he did not catch its 
purport, but thinking she regretted the loss of her own 
wagers, he began to express sorrow for having advised her 
so badly. 

She stopped him angiily. “I would have backed her 
for thousands,” she exclaimed. “I would have laid my 
life on her. I believe I have / ” 

“ Then you don’t owe the mare a grudge! ” he answered 
cheerily. “ I thought you wouldn’t. She’s not a pin the 
worse for training. You’ll take her back, won’t you ?— 
and—and—you’ll be kind to her for her own sake? ” 

She seemed to waver a moment, as if she weighed some 
doubtful matter in her mind. Presently with cleared brow, 
and frank, open looks, she caught his hand. 

“ And for yours I ” said she. “I’ll never part with her. 
So long as we three are above ground, Satanella—my 
name-sake—will be a—a—remembrance between you and 
me! ” 

Then she beckoned the General, who was talking to 


140 


SATANELLA 


some ladies behind her, and asked for information about 
the next race, with a kindness of tone and manner that 
elevated the old soldier to the seventh heaven. 

Meanwhile, Miss Macormac had found time to recover 
her composure. Turning to Mr. Walters she showed him 
a bright and pretty face, with just such traces of the 
vexation that had clouded it as are left by passing showers 
on an April sky. Her eyes looked deeper and darker for 
their late moisture, her little nose all the daintier that its 
transparent nostrils were tinged with pink. 

She gave him her hand frankly, as though to express 
silent sympathy and friendship. Sinking into a seat by 
her side, Daisy embarked on a long and detailed account of 
the race, the way he had ridden it, the performances of 
St. George, Leprauchan, Shaneen, and his own black mare. 

Though he seldom got excited, he could not but break 
into a glowing description, as he warmed with his narrative. 
“ When I came to the wall,’* he declared, ‘‘ I was as sure of 
winning as I am of sitting by you now. St. George had 
been disposed of, and he was the only horse in the race 
whose form I did not know to a pound. Leprauchan, I 
felt satisfied, could never live the pace, if I made it hot 
enough. And as for little Shaneen, the mare’s stride 
would be safe to beat liimy if we finished with a set-to, in 
the run-in. Everything had come off exactly to suit me, 
and when we rounded the last turn but one I caught hold 
of Satanella, and set her going down the hill like an 
express train ! ” 


A GOOD THING 


141 


“Did ye now?” she murmured, her deep grey eyes 
looking earnestly into his, her sweet lips parted as though 
with a breathless interest that drank in every syllable he 
spoke. 

“ Did ye now ? ” Only three words, yet carrying with 
them a charm to convince the most practical of men that 
the days of spells and witchcraft are not yet gone by. An 
Englishwoman would have observed, “ Really ! ” “ Oh, 

indeed! ” “ You don’t say so! ” or made use of some such 

cold conventional expression to denote languid attention, 
not thoroughly aroused; but the Irish girl’s “ did ye 
now ? ” identified her at once with her companion and his 
doings, started them both incontinently on that path of 
congenial partnership, which is so seductive to the traveller, 
smooth, pleasant all down hill, and leading—who knows 
where ? 

Perhaps neither deep liquid eyes, nor dark lashes, nor 
arched brows, nor even smiles and blushes, and shapely 
graceful forms, would arm these Irish ladies with such 
unequalled and irresistible powers, were it not for their 
kindly womanly nature that adapts itself so graciously to 
those with whom it comes in contact—their encouraging 
“Did ye now? ” that despises no trifle, is wearied with no 
details, and asks only for his confidence whom they honour 
with their regard. Perhaps, also, it is this faculty of 
sympathy and assimilation, predominant in both sexes, 
that makes Irish society the pleasantest in the world. 

Thus encouraged, Daisy went off again at score, described 


142 


SATANELLA 


each fence to his eager listener, dwelt on every stride, and 
explained the catastrophe of the woman and child, observ¬ 
ing, in conclusion, with a philosophy all his own, that it 
was “ hard lines to be done just at the finish, and lose a 
hat-full of money, by three-quarters of a yard ! ” 

She looked up anxiously. Did ye make such heavy 
bets now ? ” she said in a tone of tender reproach. Ah ! 
Captain Walters, ye told me ye never meant to run these 
risks again ! ” 

‘‘ It was for the last time,” he answered rather mourn¬ 
fully. ‘‘ If the old woman had been at home and in bed, 
I should have been my own master at this moment, and 
then—never mind what then ! It’s no use bothering about 
that now ! ” 

She blushed to the very roots of her hair—why she 
would have been at a loss to explain,—crumpled her race- 
card into a hundred creases, and observed innocently— 

“ Why should it make any difference now? Do ye think 
we’d like you better for being a hundred times a winner ? 
I wouldn’t then, for one ! ” 

He was sitting very close, and nobody but herself heard 
the whisper, in which he asked—■ 

‘‘ Then you don’t despise a fellow for losing. Miss 
Macormac, do you ? ” 

Despise him?” she answered with flashing eyes. 
“ Never say the word! If I liked him before, d’ye think 
I wouldn’t like him ten times better after he’d been vexed 
by such a disappointment as that! Ye’re not under- 


A GOOD THING 


143 


standing what I mean, and maybe I’m not putting it into 

right words, but it seems to me- Yes, dear mamma, I’m 

minding what you say ! Sure enough, it is raining in here 
fit to drown a fish ! I’m obliged to ye. Captain. Will ye 
kindly shift the cloak and cushions to that dry place 
yonder by Lady Mary. How wet the poor riders will be 
in their silk jackets! I’m pleased and thankful now^— 
indeed I am—that ye’re sheltered safe and dry in the 
stand.” 

The last remark in a whisper, because of Lady Mary’s 
supervision, who thinking the tete-a-tete between Daisy 
and her daughter had lasted long enough, took advantage 
of a driving shower and the state of the roof to call pretty 
Miss Norah into a part of the stand which she considered 
in every respect more secure. 

The sky had again darkened, the afternoon promised to 
be wet. Punchestown weather is not proverbial for sun¬ 
shine, and Mrs. Lushington, who had done less execution 
than she considered rightly due to a new toilette of violet 
and swansdown, voted the whole thing a failure and a bore. 
The last race was run off in a pelting shower, the Lord 
Lieutenant’s carriages and escort had departed, people 
gathered up their shawls and wrappings with little interest 
in anything but the preservation of dry skins. Ladies 
yawned and began to look tired, gentlemen picked their 
way through the course ankle-deep in mud, to order up 
their several vehicles, horse and foot scattered themselves 
over the country in every direction from a common centre. 



144 


SATANELLA 


the canvas booths flapped, wind blew, the rain fell, the 
great day’s racing was over, and it was time to go 
home. 

Norah Macormac’s ears were very sharp, but they 
listened in vain for the expected invitation from Lady 
Mary, asking Daisy to spend a few days with them at the 
castle. Papa, whose hospitality was unbounded and uncon¬ 
trollable, would have taken no denial, under any circum¬ 
stances ; but papa was engaged with the race committee, 
and intended, moreover, to gallop home across country by 
himself. There seemed nothing for it but to put as much 
cordiality into her farewell as was compatible with the 
presence of bystanders and the usages of society. 

Miss Norah no doubt acquitted herself to Daisy’s satis¬ 
faction—and her own. 

Mr. Sullivan, whose experience enabled him to recover 
his losses on the great handicap by a judicious selection of 
winners in two succeeding races, did not, therefore, depart 
without a final glass of comfort, which he swallowed in 
company with the Koscommon farmer. To him he ex¬ 
pounded his views on steeple-chasing, and horses in 
general, at far greater length than in the forenoon. It 
is a matter of regret that, owing to excitement, vexa¬ 
tion, and very strong punch, Denis should have been 
much too drunk to understand a word he said. The only 
idea this worthy seemed clearly to take in, he repeated 
over and over again in varying tones of grief and astonish¬ 
ment, but always in the same terms :— 


GOOD THING 


145 


“ The mare can do it, I tell ye ! an’ the Captain rode 
her beau-tiful! Isn’t it strange, now, to see little Shaneen 
cornin’ in like that at the finish, an’ givin’ her a batin’ by 
a neck ! ” 


10 


CHAPTER XV 

WINNEKS AND LOSERS 

Dinner that day at the castle seemed less lively than 
usual. Macormac, indeed, whose joviality was invincible, 
ate, drank, laughed, and talked for a dozen; but Lady 
Mary’s spirits were obviously depressed; and the guests, 
perhaps not without private vexation of their own, took 
their cue rather from hostess than host. An unaccountable 
sense of gloom and disappointment pervaded the whole 
party. The General having come down early, in hopes of 
a few minutes with Miss Douglas in the drawing-room 
before the others were dressed, had been disappointed by 
the protracted toilette and tardy appearance of that pro¬ 
voking young lady, with whom he parted an hour before on 
terms of mutual sympathy and tenderness, but who now 
sat pale and silent, while the thunder clouds he knew and 
dreaded gathered ominously on her brow. His preoccupa¬ 
tion necessarily affected his neighbour—a budding beauty 
fresh from the school-room, full of fun and good humour, 
that her sense of propriety kept down, unless judiciously 
encouraged and drawn out. Most of the gentlemen had 

146 


WINNEBS AND LOSERS 


147 


been wet to the skin, many had lost money, all were tired, 
and Norah Macormac’s eyes filled every now and then with 
tears. These discoveries Mrs. Lushington imparted in a 
whisper to Lord St. Abbs as he sat between herself and 
her hostess, whom he had taken in to dinner, pausing 
thereafter to mark the effect of her condescension on this 
raw youth, lately launched into the great world. The 
young nobleman, however, betrayed no symptoms of emotion 
beyond screwing his eye-glass tighter in its place, and 
turning round to look straight in her face, while it di’opped 
out with a jump. Even Mrs. Lushington felt at a dis¬ 
advantage, and took counsel with her own heart whether 
she should accost him again. 

Why Lord St. Abbs went about at all, or what pleasure 
he derived from the society of his fellow-creatures, was a 
puzzle nobody had yet been able to find out. Pale, thin, 
and puny in person, freckled, sandy-haired, bearing all 
outward characteristics of Scottish extraction, except the 
Caledonian’s gaunt and stalwart frame, he neither rowed, 
shot, fished, sang, made jokes, nor played whist. He 
drank very little, conversed not at all, and was voted by 
nearly all who had the advantage of his acquaintance the 
dullest young man out! ” 

Yet was he to be seen everywhere, from Buckingham 
Palace or Holland House to Hampton races and the fire¬ 
works at Cremorne; always alone, always silent, with his 
glass in his eye, observant, imperturbable, and thinking, 
no doubt, a great deal. 


148 


SATANELLA 


It was rumoured, indeed, that on one memorable 
occasion he got drunk at Cambridge, and kept a supper- 
party in roars of laughter till four, a.m. If so, he must 
have fired all his jokes off at once, so to speak, and blown 
the magazine up afterwards; for he never blazed forth in 
such lustre again. He came out a Wrangler of his year, 
notwithstanding, and the best modern linguist, as well as 
classical scholar, in the university. Though the world of 
ball-goers and diners-out ignores such distinctions, a strong 
political party, hungering for office, had its eye on him 
already. As his father voted for Government in the Upper 
House, a provident director of the Opposition lost no time 
in sounding him on his views, should he become a member 
of the Lower. How little, to use his own words, the whip 
“took by his motion ” may be gathered from the opinion 
he expressed in confidence to his chief, that “ St. Abbs 
was either as close as wax or the biggest fool (and it’s 
saying a great deal) who ever came out of Cambridge with 
a degree! ” 

Gloomy as a dinner-party may appear at first, if the 
champagne circulates freely, people begin to talk long 
before the repast is half over. What must children think 
of their seniors when the dining-room door opens for an 
instant, and trailing up-stairs unwillingly to bed, they 
linger to catch that discordant unintelligible gabble going 
on within? During a lull Mrs. Lushington made one 
more effort to arouse the attention of Lord St. 
Abbs, 


WINNEBS AND LOSSES 


149 


“We’re all getting better by degrees,” said she, with a 
comic little sigh. “ But it has been a disastrous day, and 
I believe everybody feels just as I do myself.” 

“How?” demanded his lordship, while the eye-glass 
bounced into his plate. 

“ Like the man who won a shilling and lost eighteen- 
pence,” she answered, laughing. 

“Why?” he asked, yet more austerely, screwing the 
instrument into position the while with a defiant scowl. 

She was out of patience—no wonder. 

“ Good gracious. Lord St. Abbs ! ” said she. “Haven’t 
we all been on the wrong horse? Haven’t we all been 
backing Daisy ? ” 

She spoke rather loud, and was amused to observe the 
effect of her observation. It was like dropping a squib in 
a boy’s school during lessons. Everybody must needs join 
in the excitement. 

“ A bad job indeed! ” said one. 

“ A great race entirely ! ” added another. “ Bun fairly 
out from end to end, and only a neck between first and 
second at the finish ! ” 

“ I wish I’d taken old Sullivan’s advice,” moaned a 
third; “or backed the mare for a place, annyhow.” 

“Ye might have been wrong even then, me boy,” 
interrupted a jolly, red-faced gentleman, “unless ye 
squared the ould woman ! I wonder would she take three 
half-crowns a day to come with me twice a year to the 
Curragli? ” 


150 


SATANELLA 


‘‘ I knew of the mare’s trial,” drawled one of the London 
dandies, ‘‘ and backed her to win me a monkey. Daisy 
put me on at once, like a trump. It was a real good thing 
and it has boiled over. (Champagne, please.) Such is 
life. Miss Douglas. We have no hope of getting home 
now till Epsom Spring.” 

Miss Douglas, not the least to his discomfiture, stared 
him scornfully in the face without reply. 

I’m afi:aid it’s a severe blow to young Walters,” 
observed the General. “ They tell me he has lost a good 
deal more than he can afford.” 

“ Got it, I fancy, very hot! ” said the dandy. Gad, he 
rode as if he’d backed his mount. I thought his finish one 
of the best I ever saw.” 

Norah Macormac threw him the sweetest of glances, and 
wondered why she had considered him so very uninteresting 
till now. 

“ They say he hasn’t a shilling left,” continued the 
General, but stopped short when he caught the flash of 
Satanella’s eye, under its dark, frowning brow. 

*‘I dare say he’ll pull through,” said she bitterly, and 
disappoint his dearest friends, after all.” 

“I’ll engage he will. Miss Douglas!” exclaimed 
Macormac’s hearty voice from the end of the table. 
“It’s yourself wouldn’t turn your back on a friend, lose 
or win. Take a glass of that claret, now. It’ll not hurt 
ye. Here’s the boy’s health, and good luck to him I A 
pleasanter fellow, to my mind, never emptied a bottle, and 


WINNEES AND LOSSES 


151 


a better rider never sat in a saddle, than he’s proved 
himself this day! ” 

Norah would have liked to jump up and hug papa’s 
handsome white head in her embrace on the spot, but Lady 
Mary had been watching the girl to-night with a mother’s 
anxiety, and fearful lest her daughter should betray herself 
if subjected to further trial, gave the signal rather pre¬ 
maturely for the ladies to withdraw. 

While they trooped gracefully out, the gentlemen were 
still discussing Daisy’s defeat, and the catastrophe of the 
Great United Service Handicap. 

Everybody knows what men talk about when left alone 
after dinner; but none, at least of the rougher sex, can 
venture to guess the topics with which ladies beguile their 
seclusion in the drawing-room. Whatever these might be, 
it seems they had little interest for Mrs. Lushington, 
whose habit it was to retire for ten minutes or so to 
her own chamber, there, perhaps, to revise and refresh 
her charms ere she descended once more upon a world of 
victims. 

Her bedroom was gorgeously furnished, supplied with all 
the luxuries to which she was accustomed; but the windows 
did not shut close, and a draught beneath the door lifted 
the hearth-rug at her fire-place; therefore she made but a 
short stay in her apartment, stealing softly down-stairs 
again, so as to be well settled in the drawing-room before 
the gentlemen came in. 

Traversing the library, she heard Lady Mary’s voice 


152 


SATANELLA 


carrying on, as it seemed, a subdued, yet sustained con¬ 
versation, in a little recess adjoining, which could hardly 
be called a boudoir, but was so far habitable, that in it 
there usually stood a lamp, a chess-board and a card-table. 
Mrs. Lushington would not have listened^ be sure, to save 
her life, but the DMin Evening Mail lay close at hand on 
a writing-table. She became suddenly interested in a 
Tipperary election, and the price of pigs at Belfast. 

Lady Mary’s accents were low, grave, even sorrowful. 
It was difficult to catch more than a sentence here and 
there ; but, judging by the short, quick sobs that replied to 
these, they seemed to produce no slight effect on the other 
party to the conversation. 

Mrs. Lushington smiled behind her paper. What she 
heard only confirmed what she suspected. Her eyes shone, 
her brow cleared. She felt like a child that has put its 
puzzle together at last. 

Lady Mary warmed with her subject; presently she 
declared, distinctly enough, that something was “ not like 
you, my dear. In any other girl I’d have called it bold, 
forward, unwomanly! ” 

Oh, mamma! mamma! don’t say that! ” pleaded a 
voice that could only belong to poor Norah. “ If you think 
so, what must he have thought ? Oh dear! oh dear ! what 
shall I do ? What shall I do ? ” 

“It’s never too late to remember your duty, my child,” 
answered Lady Mary, “ and I’m sure your father thinks as 
I do; ” but though the words sounded brave enough, there 


WINNEBS AND LOSEBS 


153 


was a tremble in the mother’s voice that vibrated from the 
mother’s heart. 

“And I’ll never see him again now, I know!'' mur¬ 
mured Norah so piteously that Lady Mary could hardly 
keep back her tears. 

“Well, it’s not come to that yet,” said she kindly. 
“ Annyways, it’s wise to make ready for the worst. Kiss 
me, dear, and mind what I’ve been telling ye. See now, 
stay here a bit, till you’re more composed. I’ll send in 
little Ella to keep ye company. The child won’t take 
notice, and ye can both come back together into the 
drawing-room, and no more said.” 

But long ere Lady Mary could finish her caresses, and 
get her motherly person under weigh, Mrs. Lushington 
had slipped into the billiard-room, where she was found by 
the gentlemen practising winning hazards in solitude, and 
where, challenging Lord St. Abbs to a game, she was left 
discomfited by his very uncivil rejoinder— 

“ I don’t play billiards,” said his lordship, and turned 
on his heels without further comment or excuse. 

It was a new sensation for Mrs. Lushington to find 
herself thus thrown on general society, without at least one 
particular admirer on whose devotion she could rely. She 
didn’t like it. She longed to have a finger in that mischief 
which is proverbially ready for “ idle hands to do.” On 
three people she now resolved to keep close and vigilant 
watch. These were Norah, St. Josephs, and Satanella. 

The conduct of this last seemed baffling in the extreme. 


154 


SATANELLA 


She had scarce vouchsafed a word to the General during 
dinner, had scowled at him more than once with the 
blackest of her black looks, and comported herself alto¬ 
gether like the handsome vixen she could be when she 
chose. Now, under pretence of setting down her coffee- 
cup, she had brought him to her side, and was whispering 
confidences in his ear, with a tenderness of tone and 
bearing he accepted gratefully, and repaid a hundredfold. 

“How tolerant are these old men!” thought Mrs. 
Lushington, “ and how kind 1 What lovers they make, if 
only one can bring oneself not to mind wiinkles, and 
rheumatism and grey hair I How gentle and how chival¬ 
rous I What patience and consideration 1 They don’t 
expect a woman to be an angel, because they do know a 
little about us; and perhaps because it is only a little, they 
believe there is more than one degree between absolute 
perfection and utter depravity. If jealous, they have 
the grace to hide it; if snubbed, they do not sulk; if 
encouraged, they do not presume. They know when 
and where to speak, and to hold their tongues; to act, 
and to refrain. Besides, if one wants to make them 
unhappy, they are so sensitive, yet so quiet A word or 
a look stings them to the quick, but they take their 
punishment with dignity; and though the blow be 
sharp and unprovoked, they never strike again. Let me 
see. I don’t think I’ve had an admirer above forty—not 
one who owned to it, at least. It’s a new experience. I 
declare, I’ll try! This romantic old General would suit the 


WINNEBS AND LOSEBS 


155 


place exactly, and I couldn’t do a kinder thing for both, 
than to detach him from Blanche. The man is regularly 
wasted and thrown away. My gracious ! isn’t it ridiculous ? 
If he could see us as we really are ! If he only knew how 
much more willing a woman is to be controlled than a 
violent horse; how much easier to capture than a Sepo^ 
column, or a Russian gun. And there he sits, a man who 
has ridden fearlessly against both, shrinking, hesitating, 
before a girl who might be his daughter—afraid, absolutely 
afraid, the gallant, heroic coward, to look her in the face! 
Is she blind ? Is she a fool, not knowing what she throws 
away ? or is she really over head and ears in love with 
somebody else ? She can’t be breaking her heart for 
Daisy, surely, or why has she taken the General up again, 
and put herself so much en evidence with him to-night? 
I’m puzzled, I own, but I’m not going to be beat. I’ll 
watch ner narrowly. I’ve nothing else to do. And it’s an 
awful temptation, even when people are great friends. 
Wouldn’t it be fun to cut her out with both ? ” 

Thus reasoned Mrs. Lushington, according to her lights, 
scrutinising the couple she had set herself to study, while 
languidly listening to Lady Mary’s conversation, which 
consisted, indeed, of speculations on the weather in the 
Channel, mingled with hospitable regrets for the departure 
of her guest, and the breaking-up of the party, which was 
to take place on the morrow. 

*‘But ye’ll come again next year,” said this kind and 
courteous lady, who, anywhere but in her own house, would 


156 


SATANELLA 


have disliked Mrs. Lushington from her heart. “ And 
ye’ll bring Miss Douglas with ye—if Miss Douglas she 
continues to be (with a significant glance at the General, 
holding, clumsily enough, a skein of much tangled silk). 
But, annyhow. I’ll be lookin’ for ye both Punchestown 
week, if not before, to give us a good long visit, and we’ll 
teach ye to like Ireland, that we will, if kind wishes and a 
warm welcome can do’t.” 

But even while she spoke. Lady Mary looked anxiously 
towards the door. Little Ella, a flaxen-haired romp of 
eleven, had jumped off long ago with a message for sister 
Norah, but neither having yet returned, the mother’s heart 
ached to think of her handsome darling, smarting, perhaps, 
even under the mild reproof she had thought it wise to 
administer, perhaps weeping bitterly, to her little sister’s 
consternation, because of the pain that burns so fiercely in 
a young unwearied heart—the longing for a happiness that 
can never be. 

Presently, liady Mary’s brow cleared, and she gave a 
little sigh of relief, for Miss Ella’s voice was heard, as 
usual, chattering loudly in the passage; and that young 
person, much elated at being still out of bed, came dancing 
into the room, followed by Norah, from whose countenance 
all traces of recent emotion had disappeared, and who 
looked, in her mother’s eyes, only the prettier, that she 
was a shade paler than usual. While the younger child 
laughed and romped with the company, fighting shy of 
Lord St. Abbs, but hovering with great glee about papa, 


WINNERS AND LOSERS 


157 


and entreating not to be sent upstairs for five more minutes, 
her sister stole quietly off to a lonely corner, where she 
subsided into an unoccupied sofa, with the air of being 
thoroughly fatigued. 

Mrs. Lushington, covertly watching Santanella, wondered 
more and more. 

Breaking away from her General, her silks, and her 
unfinished cup of tea. Miss Douglas walked across the 
room like a queen, took Norah’s head in both hands, kissed 
her exactly between her eyebrows, and sat down composedly 
by her side. 


CHAPTER XVI 

A GARDEN OF EDEN 

In a comic opera, once much appreciated by soldiers of the 
French nation, there occurs a quaint refrain, to the effect 
that the gathering of strawberries in a certain wood at 
Malieux is a delightful pastime, 

“ Quand on est deux, 

Quand on est deux- 

and the sentiment, thus expressed, seems applicable to all 
solitudes, suburban or otherwise, where winding paths and 
rustic seats admit of two abreast. But however favoured 
by nature, the very smoothest of lawns and leafiest of glades 
surely lose more than half their beauty, if we must traverse 
them unaccompanied by somebody who makes all the sun¬ 
shine, and perhaps all the shade, of our daily life. 

To wait for such a companion, is nevertheless an irritat¬ 
ing ordeal, even amidst the fairest scenery, trying both to 
temper and nerves. It has been said that none realise the 
pace at which time gallops, till they have a bill coming due. 
On the other hand none know how slow he can crawl, who 


158 


A GARDEN OF EDEN 


159 


have not kept an uncertain tryst with over-punctuality 
“ under the greenwood tree ! ” 

General St. Josephs was not a man to be late for any 
preconcerted meeting, either with friend or foe. It is a long 
way from Mayfair to Kensington Gardens; it seemed none 
the shorter for an impatient spirit and a heart beating with 
anxiety and hope. Yet the old soldier arrived at the 
appointed spot twenty minutes too soon, there to suffer 
torments from a truly British malady called “ the fidgets,” 
while diligently consulting his watch and reconnoitering his 
ground. 

How many turns he made, pacing to and fro, between 
the round pond and the grove, through which he longed to 
behold his goddess advancing in a halo of light and beauty, 
he would have been ashamed to calculate. 

Some women never can be in time for anything, even for 
a lover; and after half an hour’s waiting, that seemed a 
week, he drew a little note from his breast-pocket, kissed 
it reverently, and read it once more from end to end. 

It said twelve o’clock, no doubt, and certainly was a very 
short epistle to be esteemed so sweet. This is what, 
through many perusals, he had literally learned by heart— 

‘‘ My dear General, 

‘‘ I want a long talk. Shall I find you in Kensing¬ 
ton Gardens, where you say it’s so pretty, at twelve 
o’clock ? “ Ever yours, 


“Blanche.” 


160 


SATANELLA 


Now, in the composition, there appeared one or two 
peculiarities that especially delighted its recipient. 

She had hitherto signed herself B. Douglas, never so 
much as writing her Christian name at length; and here 
she jumped boldly to “ Blanche,” the prettiest word, to his 
mind, in the English language, when standing thus, like 
Falstaff’s sack, “simple of itself.” Also, he had not for¬ 
gotten the practice adopted by ladies in general of crossing 
a page on which there is plenty of space, to enhance its 
value, as you cross a cheque on your banker, that it may 
be honoured in the right quarter. One line had Satanella 
scrawled transversely over her note to this effect, “ Don’t 
he late; there is nothing I hate so much as waiting.” 

Altogether the Oeneral would not have parted with it for 
untold gold. 

But why didn’t she come? Looking round in every 
direction but the right, she burst upon him, like a vision, 
before he was aware. If he started, and turned a little 
pale, she marked it, we may be sure, and not with dis¬ 
pleasure. 

It was hut the middle of May, yet the sky smiled bright 
and clear, the grass was growing, butterflies were already 
on the wing, birds were singing, and the trees had dressed 
themselves in their fairest garments of tender, early green. 
She too was in some light muslin robe, appropriate to the 
weather, with a transparent bonnet on her head, and a pink- 
tinted parasol in her hand. He thought, and she knew, 
she had never looked more beautiful in her life. 


A GABDEN OF EDEN 


161 


She began with a very unnecessary question. “ Did you 
get my note?” said she. ‘‘Of course you did, or you 
wouldn’t be here. I don’t suppose you come into Kensing¬ 
ton Gardens so early to meet anybody else ! ” 

“ Never did such a thing in my life! ” exclaimed the 
General, quite frightened at the idea—but added, after a 
moment’s thought—“ It was very good of you to v/rite, and 
better still to come.” 

“Now what on earth do you suppose I wanted to speak 
to you about ? ” she continued, in rather a hard voice. 
“ Let us turn down here. I daresay you’d like all London 
to see us together; but that wouldn’t suit me at all.” 

This was both unprovoked and unjust, for a more discreet 
person in such matters than the accused never existed. 
He felt hurt, and answered gravely, “I don’t think I 
deserve that. You cannot say I have ever shown myself 
obtrusive or impatient with regard to yoit,’* 

“ Don’t look vexed,” she replied; “ and don’t scold me, 
though I deserve it. I am in one of my worst tempers this 
morning; and who can I wreak it on but you ? —the 
kindest, the bravest, the most generous of men ! ” 

His features quivered; the tears were not far from his 
eyes. A little boy with a hoop stood still, and stared up 
in his face, marvelling to see so tall a gentleman so greatly 
moved. 

He took her hand. “You can always depend on me,” 
he said softly; and, dropping it, walked on by her side in 
silence. 


11 


162 


SATANELLA 


“ I know I can,” she answered. “I’ve known it a long 
time, though you don’t think so. What a hideous little 
boy ! Now he’s gone on with his hoop. I’ll tell you what 
I mean.—One of the things that first made me like you, 
was this—you’re a gentleman down to the heels of your 
boots ! ” 

“ There’s not much in that,” he replied, looking pleased, 
nevertheless. “ So are most of the men amongst whom 
you live. A fellow ought to have something more than a 
good coat and decent manners, to be worthy of your regard ; 
and you do like me. Miss Douglas ? Tell me so again. 
It is almost too much happiness for me to believe.” 

“ That’s not the question. If I hated anybody very 
much, do you think I would ask him to come and walk with 
me in Kensington Gardens at an hour when all respectable 
people are broiling in the Park? ” said she, with one of her 
winning laughs. “ You’re wrong, though, about the people 
in good coats. What I call a gentleman is—well—I can’t 
think of many — King Arthur, for instance, in ‘ Guine¬ 
vere.’ ” 

“Not Launcelot ? ” he asked. “I thought you ladies 
liked Launcelot best.” 

“ There are plenty of Launcelots,” she answered dreamily, 
“and always will be. Not Launcelot, nor another, except 
it be my General! ” 

Could he do less than take her arm and press it fondly 
to his side ? 

They had loitered into the seclusion of a forest glade. 


A GAEDEN OF EDEN 


163 


that might have been a hundred miles from London. The 
little boy had vanished with his hoop, the nursery-maids 
and their charges were pervading the broad gravel walks 
and more frequented lawns of this sylvan paradise; not a 
soul was to be seen threading the stems of the tall trees 
but themselves, and an enthusiastic thrush straining its 
throat in their ears, seemed to ensure them from all observa¬ 
tion less tolerant than its own. 

“Now or never!” thought Satanella. “It must be 
done; and it’s no use thinking about it!” 

Turning round on her companion, she crossed her slender 
hands over his arm, looked caressingly in his face and 
murmured— 

“ General, will you do me a favour? ” 

Pages could not have conveyed the gratification expressed 
by his monosyllable, “ Try ! ” 

She looked about, as if searching for some means of 
escape, then said hurriedly— 

“I am in a difficulty. I want money. Will you help 
me?” 

Watching his face, she saw it turn very grave. The 
most devoted of lovers, even while rejoicing because of the 
confidence reposed in him, cannot but feel that such a 
question must be approached with caution—that to answer 
it satisfactorily will require prudence, fore-thought, and 
self-sacrifice. To do the General justice, which Satanella 
at the moment did not, his circumspection was far removed 
from hesitation ; he had no more idea of refusing, than the 


164 


SATANELLA 


gallant horse who shortens his stride, and draws himself 
together, for a larger fence than common, that he may 
collect his energies, and cover it without a mistake. 

For one delightful moment Miss Douglas felt a w^eight 
lifted from her Reart, and was already beginning to 
unsay her words as gi’acefully as she might when he 
stopped her, with a firm, deliberate acquiescence. 

“ Of course I will! And you ought to know by this 
time nothing can make me so happy as to be of use to 
you in any way. Forgive me, Miss Douglas—business 
is business—how much?” 

Her face fell; she let go of his arm, and her lips 
were very dry, while she whispered, “ Three thou¬ 
sand ! ” 

He was staggered, and showed it, though he tried hard 
not to look surprised. Few men can lay their hands on 
three thousand pounds of hard money, at a moment’s 
notice, without some personal inconvenience. Now the 
General was no capitalist, though in easy circumstances, 
and drav/ing the half-pay of his rank; to him such an 
outlay meant a decreased income for the rest of his 
life. 

She was quite right about his being a gentleman. In a 
few seconds he had recovered his composure; in half a 
minute he said quietly— 

‘‘ You shall have it at once. I am only so glad to be 
able to oblige you, that I wish it was more difficult. And 
now. Miss Douglas, you always say I’m a sad fidget. I’ll 


A GABDEN OF EDEN 


165 


go about it directly: I’ll only ask you to come with me 
to the end of the walk.” 

She was crying beneath her veil; he saw the tears 
dropping on her hands, and would have liked to kiss them 
away on any other occasion but this. 

“ To the end of the world! ” she answered, with 
the sobs and smiles of a child. “ There’s nobody like 
you—nobody !—not even King Arthur ! Ask what you 
will. I’ll never refuse you—never—as long as I live! ” 

But it need hardly be said that the General would 
rather have cut off his right hand, than presumed on 
the position in which her confidence had placed him. 
Though she appreciated his consideration, she hardly 
understood why his manner became so unusually respect¬ 
ful and courteous, why his farewell under the supervision 
of a cabman and a gate-keeper—should be almost distant; 
why he lifted his hat to her, at parting, as he would to 
the queen—but, while he replaced it on his bald and 
gi'izzled head, Blanche Douglas was nearer being in love 
than she suspected with this true, unselfish admirer, who 
was old enough to be her father. 

In women, far more than in men, there can exist an 
affection that springs from the head alone. It is the result 
of respect, admiration, and gratitude. It is to be won by 
devotion, consistency, above all, self-control; and, like 
a garden flower, so long as it is tended with attention, 
prospers bravely till autumn cools the temperature, and 
saddens all the sky. But this is a very different plant 


166 


SATANELLA 


from the weed, wild rose, nightshade—call it what you 
will—that is sown by the winds of heaven, to strike root 
blindly and at haphazard in the heart; sweeter for being 
trampled, stronger for being broken, proof against the 
suns that scorch, the winds that shatter, the worm that 
eats away its core, and, refusing to die, even in the frown 
of winter, under the icy breath of scorn and unmerited 
neglect. 

Which of these kindred sentiments the General had 
succeeded in awakening, was a problem he shrank from 
setting himself honestly to solve. He tried to hope it 
might be the one; he felt sadly convinced it was only 
the other. Traversing the gardens with swift, unequal 
strides, so as to leave them at the very farthest point 
from where his companion made her exit, for he was 
always loyal to les convenances^ he argued the question 
with his own heart, till he dared not think about it any 
longer, subsiding at last into composure, with the 
chivalrous reflection, that, come what might, if he could 
but minister to the happiness of Blanche Douglas, he 
would grudge no sacrifice, even the loss of his money— 
shrink from no disappointment, even the destruction of 
his hopes. 

Satanella meanwhile had selected a Hansom cab, in 
which to make her homeward journey, characteristically 
choosing the best-looking horse on the stand. To be 
seen, however, spanking along, at the rate of twelve 
miles an hour, in such a vehicle, she reflected, might be 


A GARDEN OF EDEN 


167 


considered fast in a young unmarried lady, and originate, 
also, surmises as to the nature of her expedition; for 
it is quite a mistake to suppose that people in London 
are either blind or dumb, because they have so much on 
hand of their own, that they cannot devote all their 
attention to the business of their neighbours. With 
commendable modesty, therefore, she kept her parasol 
well before her face, so as to remain unrecognised by 
her friends, while she scanned everything about her with 
the keen, bright glances of a hawk. Bowling past 
Kingston House, then, and wondering whether it 
would not be possible, in time, to raise a domestic 
pedestal for General St. Josephs, on which she might 
worship him as a hero, if she could not love him as a 
Cupid, her Hansom cab passed within six inches of 
another, moving rapidly in the opposite direction ; and who 
should be seated therein, smoking a cigar, with a white hat 
and light-coloured gloves, but ruined, reckless, never-to-be- 
forgotten Daisy ! 

She turned sick, and white even to the lips. In one 
glance, as women will, she had taken in every detail of 
his face and person, had marked that the one seemed 
devoid of care, the other well dressed as usual. Like a 
stab came the conviction, that ruin to him meant only a 
certain amount of personal inconvenience, irrespective of any 
extraneous sorrow or vexation; and in this she misjudged 
him, not quite understanding a nature she had unwittingly 
chosen for the god of her idolatry. 


168 


SATANELLA 


Tliougli they passed each other so quickly, she stretched 
her arms out and spoke his name, but Daisy’s whole 
attention was engrossed by a pretty horse-breaker in 
difficulties on his other side. Satanella felt, as she rolled 
on, that he had not recognised her, and that if she acted 
up to her own standard of right, this miserable glimpse 
must he their last meeting, for she ought never to see him 
again. 

“He’ll be sure to call, poor fellow!” she murmured, 
when she reached her own door. So it is fair to suppose 
she had been thinking of him for a mile and a quarter. 
“ I should like to wish him good-bye, really for the last 
time. But no, no! Honour, even among thieves. And 
I’m sure he deserves it, that kind, noble, generous old man. 
Oh I I wish I was dead ! I wish I was dead 1 ” Then 
she paid the cabman (more than his fare) told her servant, 
in a strange, hoarse voice, that “ she was at home to 
nobody this afternoon—nobody, not even Mrs. Lushing- 
ton! ” and so ran fiercely upstairs, and locked herself into 
her room. 


CHAPTER XVII 

“ SOLDIER BILL ” 

Daisy placidly smoking, pursued the even tenor of his 
way, thinking of the pretty horse-breaker more than any¬ 
thing else; while disapproving, in a calm, meditative mood, 
of her hat, her habit, her bridle, and the leather tassels 
that danced at her horse’s nose. 

The particular business Mr. Walters had at present 
on hand in London, or rather Kensington must be 
explained. 

Perhaps it may be remembered how, in a financial 
statement made by this young officer during the progress 
of a farce, he affirmed that, should he himself burst 
up,” as he called it, a certain “ Soldier Bill ” would 
become captain of that troop which it was his own 
ambition to command. With the view of consulting this 
rising warrior in his present monetary crisis, Daisy had 
travelled, night and day, from Ireland, nor could he 
have chosen a better adviser in the whole Army-List, 

169 


170 


SATANELLA 


as regarded kindness of heart, combined with that 
tenacious courage Englishmen call ‘‘pluck.” 

“I’m not a clever chap, I know,” Bill used to acknow¬ 
ledge, in moments of expansion after dinner. “ But 
what I say is this: If you’ve got to do a thing, catch 
hold, and do it! Keep square, run straight, and ride 
the shortest way! You won’t beat thatf my boy, with 
all the dodges that ever put one of your nohblers in the 
hole! ” 

It is but justice to admit that, in every relation of life, 
sport or earnest, this simple moralist acted strictly in 
accordance with his creed. That he was a favourite in 
his regiment need hardly be said. The younger son of 
a great nobleman, he had joined at seventeen, with a 
frank childish face and the spirits of a boy fresh from 
school. Before he was a week at drill, the very privates 
swore such a young dare-devil had never ridden in their 
ranks since the corps was raised. Utterly reckless, as 
it seemed, of life and limb, that fair-haired, half-grown 
lad, would tackle the wildest horse, swim the swiftest 
steam, leap the largest fence, and fight the strongest 
man, with such rollicking, mirthful enjoyment, as could 
only spring from an excess of youthful energy and light¬ 
heartedness. But, somehow, he was never beat, or didn't 
know it when he was. Eventually, it always turned out 
that the horse was mastered, the stream crossed, the 
fence cleared, and the man obliged to give in. His war¬ 
like house had borne for centuries on their shield the 


SOLDIER BILL'' 


171 


well-known motto, ‘‘Gro on!” To never a scion of 
the line could it have been more appropriate than 
to this light-footed, light-headed, light-hearted light 
dragoon ! 

In his own family, of course, he was the pet and 
treasure of all. His mother worshipped him, though 
he kept her in continual hot water with his vagaries. 
His sisters thought (perhaps reasonably enough) that 
there was nobody like him in the world. And his 
stately old father, while he frowned and shook his head 
at an endless catalogue of larks, steeple-chases, broken 
bones, etc., was more proud of Bill in his heart than 
of all his ancestors and all his other sons put together. 

They were a distinguished race. Each had made his 
mark in his own line. It was “ Soldier Bill’s ” ambition 
to attain military fame; every step in the ladder seemed 
to him, therefore, of priceless value. And promotion was 
as the very breath of his nostrils. 

But a man that delights in personal risk is rarely of 
a selfish nature. In reply to Daisy’s statement, made 
with that terseness of expression, that total absence of 
circumlocution, complimentary or otherwise, which dis¬ 
tinguishes the conversation of a mess-table. Bill ordered 
his visitor a “ brandy-and-soda ” on the spot, and thus 
delivered himself. 

“ Troop be d—d, Daisy 1 It’s no fun soldiering without 
your ‘ pals.’ I’d rather be a ‘ Serrafile ’ for the rest 
of my life, or a ‘batman,’ or a trumpeter, by Jove ! than 


172 


8ATANELLA 


command the regiment, only because all the good fellows 
in it had come to grief. Sit down. Never mind the 
bitch, she’s always smelling about a strange pair of 
legs, but she won’t lay hold, if you keep perfectly still. 
Have a weed, and let’s see what can be done! ” 

The room in which their meeting took place was charac¬ 
teristic of its occupant. Devoid of superfluous furniture, 
and with an uncarpeted floor, it boasted many works of 
art, spirited enough, and even elaborate, in their own 
particular line. The series of prints representing a steeple¬ 
chase, in which yellow jacket cut out all the work, and 
eventually won by a neck, could not be surpassed for 
originality of treatment and fidelity of execution. Statuettes 
of celebrated acrobats stood on brackets along the walls, 
alternating with cavalry spurs, riding-whips, boxing-gloves, 
and basket-hilted sticks, while the place of honour over the 
chimney-piece was filled by a portrait of Mendoza in fighting 
attitude, at that halcyon period of the prize-ring— 

“ When Humphreys stood up to the Israelite’s thumps, 

In kerseymere breeches, and ‘ touch-me-not ’ pumps.” 

“It’s very pleasant this,” observed Daisy, with his legs 
on a chair, to avoid the attentions of Venus, an ill-favoured 
lady of the “ bull ” kind, beautiful to connoisseurs as her 
Olympian namesake, but for the uninitiated an imperso¬ 
nation of hideous ferocity and anatomical distortion 
combined. 


80LDIEB BILL 


173 


“ Jolly little crib, isn’t it ? ” replied Bill; and though 
I’m not much in ‘ fashionable circles,’ suits me down to 
the ground. Wasn’t it luck, though, the small-pox and 
the regimental steeple - chase putting so many of our 
captains on the sick-list, that they detached a subaltern 
here to command ? We were so short of officers, my boy, 
I thought the Chief would have made you ‘ hark back ’ 
from Ireland. Don’t you wish he had? You’d better 
have been in bed on the 17th; though, by all accounts, 
you rode the four miles truly through, and squeezed the old 
mare as dry as an orange ! ” 

Gammon ! ” retorted Daisy. “ She had five pounds in 
hand, only we got jostled at the run-in. I’ll make a match 
to-morrow with Shaneen for any sum they like, same 

course, same weights, and- But I’m talking nonsense ! 

I couldn’t pay if I lost. I can’t pay up what I owe now. 
I’m done, old boy; that’s all about it. When a fellow 
can’t swim any farther, there’s nothing for it but to go 
under! ” 

His friend pulled a long face, whistled softly, took Venus 
on his lap, and pondered with all his might. 

“Look here, Daisy,” was the result of his cogitations; 
“ when you’ve got to fight a cove two stone above your 
weight, you don’t blunder in at him, hammer-and-tongs, to 
get your jolly head knocked off in a couple of rounds. No ; 
if you have the condition (and that’s everything), you keep 
dodging, and waiting, and out-fighting, till your man’s 
blown. Then you tackle to, and finish him up before he 



174 


SAT AN ELL A 


gets his wind again. Now this is just your case. Ask for 
leave; the Chief will stand it well enough, if he knows 
you’re in a fix. Fll do your duty, and you must get away 
somewhere, and keep dark, till we’ve all had time to turn 
ourselves round.” 

“Where can I go to?” said Daisy. “What a queer 
smell there is in this room, Bill. Something between dead 
rats and a Stilton cheese.” 

“Smell!” answered his host. “Pooh; nonsense. 
That’s the badger; he lives in the bottom drawer of my 
wardrobe. We call him ‘ Benjamin.’ Don’t you like the 
smell of a badger, Daisy ? ” 

Now “ Benjamin ” was a special favourite with his 
owner, in consideration of the creature’s obstinate and 
tenacious courage. Bill loved it from his heart, protesting 
it was the only living thing from which he “ took a licking; ” 
because on one occasion, after a very noisy supper, the man 
had tried, and failed, to “draw” the beast from its lair 
with his teeth 1 Therefore, “ Benjamin ” was now a fi’ee 
brother of the Guild, well cared for, unmolested, living on 
terms of armed neutrality with the redoubtable Venus 
herself. 

Ignoring as deplorable prejudice Daisy’s protest that he 
did not like the smell of a badger, his friend returned with 
unabated interest to the previous question. 

“You mustn’t stay in London, that’s clear; though I’ve 
heard there’s no covert like it to hang in for a fellow who’s 
robbed a church ! But it wouldn’t suit you. You’re not 


SOLDIER BILL" 


175 


bad enough ; besides it’s too near Hounslow. The Conti¬ 
nent’s no use. Travelling costs a hat-full of money, and 
it’s very slow abroad now the fighting’s over. A quiet 
place, not too far from home; that’s the ticket! ” 

“ There’s Jersey,” observed Daisy doubtfully. “ I don’t 
know where it is, but I daresay its quiet enough.” 

“Jersey be hanged!” exclaimed his energetic friend. 
“ Why not Guernsey, Alderney, or what do you say to 
Sark ? No, we must hit on a happier thought than that. 
You crossed last night, you say. Does any one know 
you’re in town ? ” 

“ Only the waiter at Dimmer’s. I had breakfast there, 
and left my portmanteau, you know.” 

“ Dimmer’s! I wish you hadn’t gone to Dimmer’s 1 
Never mind; the waiter is easily squared. Now, look 
here, Daisy, you’re not supposed to be in Dondon. Is 
there no retired spot you could dodge back to in Ireland, 
where you can get your health, and live cheap ? Who’s to 
know you ever left it ? ” 

His friend Denis occm-red to Daisy at once. 

“ There’s a farm up in Koscommon,” said he, “ where 
they’d take me in and welcome. The air’s good, and living 
must be cheap, for you can’t get anything to eat but 
potatoes ! I shouldn’t wonder if they hunted all the year 
round in those hills, and the farmer is a capital fellow, 
never without a two- 3 ^ear-old that can jump 1 ” 

“ That sounds like it,” responded the other, with certain 
inward longings of his own for this favoured spot. “Now, 


176 


8ATANELLA 


Daisy, will you ride to orders, and promise to be guided 
entirely by me I ” 

“ All right,” said Daisy; “ fire away.” 

“ Barney! ” shouted his friend, in a voice that resounded 
over the barracks, startling even the sergeant of the guard. 
“ Barney ! look sharp. Tell them to put a saddle on 
Catamount, and turn him round ready to go out; then 
come here.” 

In two minutes a shock-headed batman, obviously Irish, 
entered the apartment’ and stood at “ attention,” motion¬ 
less, but for the twinlding of his light blue eyes. 

“ Go to Limmer’s at once,” said his master ; “ pay Mr. 
Walters’s bill. Breakfast and B. and S., of course ? Pack 
his things, and take them to Euston Station. Wait there 
till he comes, and see him off by the Irish mail. Do you 
understand ? ” 

“I do, sur,” answered Barney, and vanished like a 
ghost. 

“You’ve great administrative powers. Bill,” said his 
admiring friend. “ Hang it! you’re fit to command an 
army.” 

“ I could manage the Commissariat, I think,” answered 
the other modestly; “ but of course you’re only chaffing. 
I’m not a wise chap, I know ; never learnt anything at 
school, and had the devil’s own job to pass for my cornetcy. 
But I’ll tell you what I can do. When a course is marked 
out, and the stewards have told me which side of the flags 
I’m to go, I do know my right hand from my left, and that’s 


SOLDIEE BILL 


177 


more than every fellow can say who gets up for a flutter in 
the pig-skin ! And now I’m off to head-quarters to see the 
Chief, and ask leave for you till Muster, at any rate.” 

‘‘You won’t find him,” observed Daisy. “It must be 
two o’clock now.” 

“Not find him!” repeated the other. “Don’t you 
know the Chief better than that? He gets home-sick if 
he is a mile from the barrack-yard. It’s my belief he was 
born in spurs, with the ‘ state ’ of the regiment in his hand ! 
Besides he’s ordered a parade for fitting on the new nose¬ 
bags at three. He wouldn’t miss it to go to the Derby.” 

“You are a good chap,” said his friend. “ It’s a long 
ride, and a beastly hard road I ” 

Bill was by this time dressing with inconceivable rapidity, 
and an utter disregard of his comrade’s presence. 

“ A long ride,” he repeated, in high scorn, while he 
dashed into a remarkably well-made coat. “ What do you 
call a long ride with a quad, like Catamount ? Five-and- 
forty minutes is what he allows me from gate to gate ; and 
it takes Captain Armstrong all his time, I can tell you, 
to keep him back to that! The beggar ran away with me 
one night from Ashbourne to the Royal barracks in Dublin ; 
and though it was so dark you couldn’t see your hand, he 
never made a wrong turn, nor let me get a pull at him, till 
he laid his nose against his own stable door. Bless his 
chestnut heart I he’s the worst mouth and the worst temper 
of any horse in Europe. Look at him now. There’s a 
pair of iron legs, and a wicked eye ! It’s rather good fun 

12 


178 


SATANELLA 


to see him kick directly I’m up. But I’ve never had such 
a hack, and I wouldn’t part with him to be made 
Commander-in-Chief.” 

Daisy could do no less than accompany his host to the 
door, and see him mount this redoubtable animal, the gift 
of a trainer at the Curragh, who could do nothing with it, 
and opined that even Soldier Bill’s extraordinary nerve 
would be unequal to compete with so restive a brute. He 
had miscalculated, however, the influence utter fearlessness 
can establish over the beasts of the field. 

Catamount’s first act of insubordination, indeed, was to 
run away with his new master for four miles on end, across 
the Curragh, but over excellent turf, smooth as a bowling- 
gTeen: he discovered, to his surprise, that Bill wished no 
better fun. He then repeated the experiment in a stiffly- 
fenced part of Kildare; and here found himself not only 
indulged, but instigated to continue, when he wanted to 
leave off. He tried grinding his rider’s leg against the 
wall: Bill turned a sharp spur inwards, and made it very 
uncomfortable. He lay down : Bill kept him on the ground 
an hour or two by sitting on his head. 

At last he confined himself to kicking unreasonably, at 
intervals, galloping sullenly on, nevertheless, in the 
required direction, and doing a vast amount of work in an 
incredibly short space of time. He was never off his feed, 
and his legs never filled, so to Bill he was invaluable, not¬ 
withstanding their disputes, and a certain soreness about 
a Cup the horse ought to have won, had he not sulked at 


SOLDIER BILL 


179 


the finish: they loved each other dearly, and would have 
been exceedingly loth to part. 

“ My seqeant’s wife will get you some dinner,” said the 
rider, between certain sundry preliminary kicks in getting 
under way. “ She’s an outside cook, and I’ve told her 
what you’d like. There’s a bottle of brandy on the 
chimney-piece, and soda-water in the drawer next the 
badger. I’ll be back before it’s time for you to start. 
Cut along. Catamount! Hang it! don’t get me off the 
shop-board, before half the troop. Forrard! my lad! 
Fon-ard ! away ! ” and Bill galloped out of the barracks at 
head-long speed, much to the gratification of the sentry 
manipulating his carbine at the gate. This true friend 
proved as good as his word. In less than three hours, he 
was back again. Catamount having hardly turned a hair in 
their excursion. The colonel had been kindness itself. 
The leave was all right. There was nothing more to be 
done, but to pack Daisy off in a Hansom, for Euston 
Square. 

“ Take a pony, old man,” said Bill, urging his friend to 
share his purse, while he wished him “good-bye.” “If 
I’d more, you should have it. Nonsense ! I don’t want it 
a bit. Keep your pecker up and fight high. Write a line 
if anything turns up. I’ll go on working the job here, 
never fear. We won’t let you out of the regiment. What 
is life, after all, to a fellow who isn’t a light dragoon ? ” 


CHAPTER XVIII 

DELILAH 

In consoling his friend, Xanthias Phoceus, for the result of 
a little flirtation, in which that Roman gentleman seems 
to have indulged without regard to station, Horace quotes 
for us a triad of illustrious persons whose hrazen-plated 
armour, and hulls-hide targets were of no avail to fence 
them from the shaft of love. If neither petulant Achilles, 
nor Ajax, son of Telamon, nor the king of men himself, 
could escape, it is not to be supposed that a young cavalry 
officer in her Majesty’s service, however simple in his 
habits and frank in his demeanour, should he without some 
weakness of the same nature, unacknowledged perhaps, yet 
none the less a weakness on that account. 

“ Soldier Bill,” notwithstanding his kindly disposition 
and fresh comely face, seemed the last man in the world to 
be susceptible of female influence, yet “ Soldier Bill” felt, 
to a certain extent, in the same plight as Agamemnon. 
Though in dress, manners and appearance, anything but 
what is usually termed a “ ladies’ man ; ” he was neverthe- 
180 


DELILAH 


181 


less a prime favourite with the sex, on such rare occasions 
as threw him in their way. Women in general seem most 
to appreciate qualities not possessed by themselves, and 
while they greatly admire all kinds of courage, find that 
which is mingled with good-humoured hap-hazard reckless¬ 
ness, perfectly irresistible. They worship their heroes too, 
and believe in them, with ludicrous good faith. Observe 
a woman in a pleasure boat. If there comes a puff of 
wind, she never takes her eyes off the boatman, and trusts 
him implicitly. The more frightened she feels, the more 
confidence she places in her guardian, and so long as the 
fancied danger lasts, clings devotedly to the pilot, he he 
the roughest, hairiest, tarriest son of Neptune that ever 
turned a quid. 

Now the converse of this relation between the sexes 
holds equally good. To live entirely with men and horses; 
to rough it habitually ; from day to day enduring hardships, 
voluntary or otherwise, in the pursuit of field-sports; to 
share his studies with a dog, and take his pastime with a 
prize-fighter, does not necessarily unfit a man for the 
society of gentler, softer, sweeter, craftier creatures. On 
the contrary, in many natures, and those, perhaps, the 
strongest, such habits produce a longing for female society 
deeper and keener, that it has to be continually repudiated 
and repressed. 

When he had started Daisy for the station. Bill renewed 
his toilet with peculiar care, and in spite of a few scars on 
his face, some the effects of falls, others, alas ! of fights, a 


182 


SAT AN ELL A 


very good-looking young gentleman he saw reflected in his 
glass. Smoothing a pair of early moustaches, and sleeking 
a close-cropped head, he searched about in vain for a 
scent-bottle, and actually drew on a pair of kid gloves. 
Obviously, “Soldier Bill” was going to call on a lady. 
He could not help laughing, while he thought how the 
cornets would chaff him, if they knew. Nevertheless, 
with a farewell caress to the badger, fresh, radiant, and 
undaunted, he sallied forth. 

It was quite in accordance with the doctrine of opposites, 
propounded above, that Bill should have experienced a 
sensation of refreshment and repose, in the society of a 
charming married woman, very much his senior, who made 
light of him no doubt, but amused, indulged, and instructed 
him while she laughed. Her boudoir was indeed a pleasant 
change from his barrack-room. He could not but admit 
that in her society tea seemed a more grateful beverage 
than brandy and soda; the tones of a pianoforte sweeter 
than any stable call; and the perfume that pervaded every 
article about her, far more delightful, if less pungent, than 
that which hung round his retiring friend “Benjamin,” in 
the bottom drawer of the wardrobe. 

In his wildest moments, however. Bill never dreamed 
of making love to her ; and it is not difficult to understand, 
that his goddess, being no less experienced a person than 
Mrs. Lushington, was well able to take care of herself. 

“I like the boy,” she used to say to any one who would 
listen, even to her husband, if nobody else could be found. 


DELILAH 


183 


“ He is so fresh and honest, and he looks so dean ! It’s 
like having a nice child about one, and then I can do him 
so much good. I form his manners, teach him the ways 
of society, prevent his being imposed upon, and generally 
make him fit for civilised life. If there were no good- 
natured people like me, Frank, these poor young things 
would fall a prey to the first designing girl who comes 
across them on the war-path, looking out to catch a 
husband coute que coute. I’m sure his mother ought to be 
infinitely obliged to me. She couldn’t take more pains 
with him herself! When he began coming here, he didn’t 
know how to waltz or to take off his hat, or to answer a 
note even; in short, he couldn’t say Bo to a goose ! And 
now I’ve made him learn all these things, and he does 
them well, particularly the last. He’s still absurdly shy, 
I grant you, but it’s wearing off day by day. When I’m 
grown old, Frank, and wrinkled (though I’d sooner die 
first), he’ll be grateful, and understand what care I’ve 
taken of him, and what a sad fate might have befallen 
him, but for me ! Isn’t there something in Dr. Watts, or 
somebody, 

Regardless of their doom, 

The little victims play. 

Frank! I don’t believe you’re listening ! ” 

Oh yes, I am,” answers Frank, whose thoughts have 
wandered to Skindle’s, Eichmond, Newmarket — who 
knows where ? “ What you say is very true, my dear— 

very true—and nobody understands these things better 


184 


SATANELLA 


than yourself. Good gracious ! is that clock right! I had 
no idea it was so late! I must be off at once, and—let 
me see—I’ll get hack to dinner if I can; but don’t wait.” 

So exit Mr. Lushington on his own devices, and enter a 
footman with tea, closely followed by the butler ushering 
in Soldier Bill.” 

Talk of somebody,” says the lady, graciously ex¬ 
tending her hand, and, we are told, he is sure to appear. 
How odd, I was abusing you not five minutes ago to Frank 
—^you must have met him as you came in,—and, behold, 
here you are—not having been near me for a month ! ” 

“A week,” answered her visitor, who always stuck to 
facts. “You told me yourself one ought never to call 
again at the same house till after a decent interval. A 
week is decent surely! It seems a deuced long time, I 
know.” 

“You don’t suppose I’ve missed you?” said she, 
pouring out the tea. “ It’s all for your own good I have 
you here. You’d get back to savage life again, if I 
neglected you for a fortnight; and it is provoking to see 
all one’s time and trouble thrown away! Now put your 
hat down, have some tea, make yourself agreeable, and 
you may stay here for exactly three-quarters of an hour! ” 
To “make himself agreeable” at short notice, and to 
order, is a difficult task for any man. For Bill it was 
simply impossible. He fidgeted, gulped hot tea, and 
began to feel shy. She had considerable tact, however, 
and no little experience in the ways of young men. She 


DELILAH 


185 


neither laughed at him nor took notice of the blush he 
tried to keep down, but bade him throw the window open, 
and while he obeyed, continued carelessly, though kindly— 

“In the first place, tell me all about yourself. How’s 
Catamount? ” 

She knew every one of his horses by name, and even 
some of the men in his troop, leading him to talk on such 
congenial topics with considerable ingenuity. It was this 
tact of hers that rendered Mrs. Lushington such a pleasant 
member of society, enabling her to keep her head above 
water deep enough to have drowned a lady with less 
savoir-faire^ and consequently fewer friends. 

His face brightened. “ As fresh as paint! ” he replied. 
“ I beg your pardon ; I mean as well as can be expected. 
I rode him two-and-twenty miles to-day in an hour and a 
half, and I give you my word, when I got ofi* him he 
looked as if he’d never been out of the stable.” 

“I should pity you more than your horse,” she replied, 
with a commendable air of interest; “only I know you 
are never so happy as when you are trying to break your 
neck. You’ve had the grace to dress since, I see, and 
not badly, for once, only that handkerchief is too light 
a shade of blue. Now, confess ! Where does she live ? 
and is she worth riding eleven miles, there and back, to 
see?” 

“ I never know whether you’re chaffing or not! ” re¬ 
sponded Bill. “ You cannot believe I would gallop Cata¬ 
mount twenty-two miles on a hard road for any lady in the 


186 


SAT AN ELL A 


world. I didn’t suppose he’d take me if I wanted to go. 
She, indeed ! There’s no she in the matter ! ” 

“You might have made one exception in common 
politeness,” said Mrs. Lushington, laughing. “ But I’m 
not satisfied yet. You and Catamount are a very flighty 
pair. I still think there’s a lady in the case.” 

“ A lady in hoots and spurs, then,” he answered; “ six 
foot high, with grey moustaches and a lame leg from a 
sabre-cut—a lady who has been thirty years soldiering, 
and never gave or questioned an unreasonable order. Do 
you know many ladies of that stamp, Mrs. Lushington? 
I only know one, and she has made my regiment the 
smartest in the service.” 

“I do know your colonel a little,” said she. “I met 
him once at Aldershot, and though he is anything hut 
an old woman, I consider him an old dear! So I am not 
very far wrong, after all. Now what did he want you for ? 
Sent for you, of course, to have—what do you call it ?—a 
tvigging, I’m afraid. Master Bill, you’re a sad bad boy, 
and always getting into scrapes.” 

“Wigging! ” he repeated indignantly. “Not a hit of 
it; nothing could have been kinder than the Chief. He’s 
the best old fellow in the world! I wasn’t sent for. I 
didn’t go on my own account; I went down about Daisy.” 

Then he stopped short, afraid of having committed him¬ 
self, and conscious that at the present crisis of his brother- 
officer’s affairs, the less said about them the better. 

But who, since the days of Samson, was ever able to 


DELILAH 


187 


keep a secret from a woman resolved to worm it out ? As 
the strong man in Delilah’s lap, so was Bill in the boudoir 
of Mrs. Lushington. 

“Daisy,” she repeated; “do you know anything of 
Daisy ? Tell me all about him. We’re so interested, you 
can’t think, and so sorry for his difficulties. I wish I 
could help him. Is there nothing to be done? ” 

Touched by her concern for his friend’s welfare, he 
trusted her at once. 

“ You won’t mention it,” said he ; “ Daisy was with me 
at Kensington to-day. He can’t show yet, you know ; but 
still we hope to make it all right in time. He’s got a 
month’s leave for the present; and I packed him off, to 
start by the Irish mail to-night, just before I came to see 
you. He’ll keep quiet over there, and people won’t know 
where he is; so they can’t write, and then say he doesn’t 
answer their letters. Anything to put off the smash as 
long as possible. One can never tell what may turn up.” 

“You’re a kind friend,” she replied approvingly, “and 
a good boy. There ! that’s a great deal for me to say. 
Now tell me ivliere the poor fellow is gone.” 

“ You won’t breathe it to a soul,” said honest Bill— 
“ not even to Mr. Lushington ? ” 

“ Not even to Mr. Lushington! ” she protested, greatly 
amused. 

He gave her the address with profound gravity, and an 
implicit reliance on her secrecy. 

“A hill-farmer in Eoscommoii! ” she exclaimed. “I 


188 


SATANELLA 


know the man. His name is Denis; I saw him at 
Punchestown.” 

“You know everything,” he said, in a tone of admira¬ 
tion. “ It must be very jolly to be clever, and that.” 

“ It’s much jollier to be ‘ rich and that,’ ” was her 
answer. “ Money is what we all seem to want—especially 
poor Daisy. Now, how much do you suppose it would 
take to set him straight ? ” 

He was not the man to trust any one by halves. “ Three 
thousand,” he declared, frankly : “and where he is to get 
it beats me altogether. Of com-se he can’t hide for ever. 
After a time he must come back to do duty; then there’ll 
be a show up, and he’ll have to leave the regiment.” 

“And you will get your troop,” said Mrs. Lushington. 
“ You see I know all about that too.” 

His own promotion, however, as has been said, afforded 
this kind-hearted young gentleman no sort of consolation. 

“I hope it won’t come to that,” was his comment on 
the military knowledge of his hostess. “ I’ve great faith 
in luck. When things are at their worst they mend. 
Never say die till you’re dead, Mrs. Lushington. Take 
your * crowners ’ good-humouredly. Stick to your horse; 
and don’t let go of the bridle ! ” 

“You’ve been here more than your three-quarters of 
an hour,” said Mrs. Lushington, “ and you’re beginning to 
talk slang, so you’d better depart. But you’re improving, 
I thinks and you may come again. Let me see, the day 
after to-morrow, if the Colonel don’t object, and if you 


DELILAH 


189 


can find another handkerchief with a deeper shade of 
blue.” 

So Bill took his leave, and proceeded to “ The Bag,” 
where he meant to dine in company with other choice 
spirits, wondering whether it would ever be his lot to marry 
a woman like Mrs. Lushington—younger, of course, and 
perhaps, though he hardly ventured to tell himself so, 
with a little less chaff—doubting the while if he could 
consent so entirely to change his condition and his daily, 
or perhaps rather his nightly, habits of life. He need not 
give up the regiment, he reflected, and could keep Cata¬ 
mount, though the stud might have to be reduced. But 
what would become of Benjamin? Was it possible any 
lady would permit the badger to occupy a bottom drawer in 
her wardrobe ? This seemed a difficult question. Pending 
its solution, perhaps he had better remain as he was! 


CHAPTER XIX 

“ THE river’s brim ” 

Daisy v/as sick of the Channel. He had crossed and 
recrossed it so often of late as to loathe its dancing waters, 
yawning in the face of Welsh and Wicklow mountains 
alike, wearied even of the lovely scenery that adorns the 
coast on either side. 

He voted himself so tired in body and mind that he 
must stay a day or two in Dublin to refresh. 

A man who balances on the verge of ruin always has 
plenty of money in his pocket for immediate necessities. 
The expiring flame leaps up with a flash; the end of the 
bottle bubbles out with a gush; and the ebbing tide of 
wealth leaves, here and there, a handful of loose cash on 
the deserted shore, 

Daisy drove to the most expensive hotel in Dublin, 
where he ordered a capital breakfast and a comfortable 
room. The future seemed very uncertain. In obedience 
to an instinct of humanity that bids men pause and dally 

190 


THE BIVEH8 BEIM 


191 


with any crisis of their fate, he determined to enjoy to-day, 
and let to-morrow take care of itself. 

Nobody could be more unlikely to analyse his own 
sensations. It was not the practice of the Kegiment; but 
had Daisy been given to self-examination it would have 
puzzled him to explain why he felt in such good humour, 
and so well satisfied—buoyed up with hope, when he ought 
to have been sunk and overwhelmed in despair. 

“ Waiter,” said the fugitive, while he finished his tea 
and ordered a glass of curagao, ‘‘has Mr. Sullivan been 
here this morning? ” 

“ He did, sur,” answered the waiter, with a pleasant 
grin. “ Sure he brought a harse for the master to see. 
Five years old. Captain. A clane-bred one, like what ye 
ride yerself. There’s not the aqual of him, they do he 
braggin’, for leppin’, in Westmeath an’ thim parts where 
he v/as trained.” 

Now Daisy wanted a horse no more than he wanted an 
alligator. He could neither afford to buy nor keep one, 
and had two or three of his own that it was indispensable 
to sell, yet his eye brightened, his spirits rose, with the 
bare possibility of a deal. He might see the animal, at 
any rate, he thought, perhaps ride it—there would be 
others probably to show; he could spend a few pleasant 
hours in examining their points, discussing their merits, 
and interchanging with Mr. Sullivan those brief and pithy 
remarks, intelligible only to the initiated, which he esteemed 
the essence of pleasant conversation. Like many other 


192 


SATANELLA 


young men, Daisy was bitten with hippomania. He 
thoroughly enjoyed the humours of a dealer’s yard. The 
horses interested, the owners amused him. He liked the 
selection, the bargaining, the running up and down, the 
speculation, and the slang. To use his own words—“ He 
never could resist the rattle of a hat! ” 

It is no wonder then that “ the Captain,” as Mr. 
Sullivan called him, spent his whole afternoon at a snug 
little place within an easy drive of Dublin, where that 
worthy, though not by way of being in the profession, 
inhabited a clean whitewashed house, with a few acres of 
marvellously gi’een paddock, and three or four loose boxes, 
containing horses of various qualities, good, bad, and in¬ 
different. Here, after flying for an hour or two over the 
adjoining fields and fences, Daisy, with considerable 
difficulty, resisted the purchase (on credit) of a worn-out 
black, a roan with heavy shoulders, and a three-year-old 
engaged in the following autumn at the Curragh, but 
afforded their owner perfect satisfaction by the encomiums 
he passed on their merits, no less than by the masterly 
manner in which he handled them, at the formidable 
fences that bordered Mr. Sullivan’s domain. 

“ An’ ye’ll take nothing away with ye but a fishing-rod,” 
said the latter, pressing on his visitor the refreshment of 
whiskey, with or without water. “Ye’re welcome to’t, 
anny how—more by token that ye’ll bring it back again 
when ye done with it. Captain, and proud I’ll be to get 
another visit from ye, when ye’re travelling the country, to 


“Ti/ii; BIVERS 


193 


or from Dublin, at anny time. May be in the back end of 
the year I’ll have wan to show ye in thim boxes that ye 
niver seen the likes of him for lep-racin’. Whisper now. 
He’s bet the Black Baron in a trial; and for Shaneen, him 
that wan the race off your mare at Punchestown,—wait till 
I tell ye,—at even weights, he’d go and lose little Shaneen 
in two miles ! ” 

Promising to return at a future time for inspection of 
this paragon, and disposing the borrowed fishing-rod care¬ 
fully on an outside car he had chartered for his expedition, 
Daisy retmuied to Dublin, ate a good dinner, drank a bottle 
of dry champagne, and went to sleep in the comfortable 
bedroom of his comfortable hotel, as if he had not a care 
nor a debt in the world. 

Towards morning his lighter slumbers may have been 
visited by dreams, and if so it is probable that fancy 
clothed her visions in a similitude of Norah Macormac. 
Certainly his first thought on waking was for that young 
lady, as his opening eyes rested on the fishing-rod, which 
he had borrowed chiefly on her account. 

In truth, Daisy felt inclined to put off as long as possible 
the exile—for he could think of it in no more favour¬ 
able light—that he had brought on himself in the Bos- 
common mountains. 

Mr. Sullivan, when the sport of fly-fishing came in his 
way, was no mean disciple of the gentle art. Observing a 
salmon-rod in that worthy’s sitting-room, of which apart¬ 
ment, indeed, with two foxes’ brushes and a barometer it 
13 


194 


8ATANELLA 


constituted the principal furniture, Daisy bethought him 
that on one of his visits to Cormac’s-town its hospitable 
owner had given him leave and licence to fish the Dabble 
whenever he pleased, whether staying at the Castle or not. 
The skies were cloudy—as usual in Ireland, there was no 
lack of rain—surely this would be a proper occasion to 
take advantage of Macormac’s kindness, protract his stay 
in Dublin, and run down daily by the train to fish, so 
long as favourable weather lasted and his own funds held 
out. 

We are mostly self-deceivers though there exists some¬ 
thing within each of us that is not to be hoodwinked nor 
imposed upon by the most specious of fallacies. 

It is probable Daisy never confessed to himself how the 
fish he really wanted to angle for was already more than 
half-hooked: how it was less the attraction of a salmon 
than a mermaid that drew him to the margin of the 
Dabble; and how he cared very little that the sun shone 
bright or the river waned so as he might hut hear the light 
step of Norah Macormac on the shingle, look in the fair 
face that turned so pale and sad when he went away, that 
would smile and blush its welcome so kindly when he came 
again. 

He must have loved her without knowing it; and 
perhaps such insensible attachments, waxing stronger day 
by day, strike the deepest root, and boast the longest 
existence: hardy plants that live and flourish through the 
frowns of many winters, contrasting nobly with more 


“ THE BIVERS BBIM 


195 


brilliant and ephemeral posies, forced by circumstances to 
sudden maturity and rapid decay— 

“ As flowers that first in spring-time burst, 

The earliest wither too.” 

Nevertheless, for both sexes, 

“ ’Tis all but a dream at the best; ” 

and Norah Macormac’s vision, scarcely acknowledged while 
everything went smoothly, assumed very glowing colours 
when the impossibility of its realisation dawned on her; 
when Lady Mary pointed out the folly of an attachment to 
a penniless subaltern unsteady in habits, while addicted 
overmuch to sports of the field. 

With average experience and plenty of common-sense, 
the mother had been sorely puzzled how to act. She was 
well aware, that advice in such cases, however judiciously 
administered, often irritates the wound it is intended to 
heal; that ‘‘warnings”—to use her own words—“only 
put things in people’s heads; ” and that a fancy, like a 
heresy, sometimes dies out unnoticed when it is not to be 
stifled by argument nor extirpated with the strong hand. 
Yet how might she suffer this pernicious superstition to 
grow, under her very eyes ? Was she not a woman ? and 
must she not speak her mind ? Besides, she blamed her 
own blindness, that her daughter’s intimacy with the 
scape-grace had been unchecked in its commencement, 
and, smarting with self-reproach, could not forbear crying 
aloud, when she had better have held her tongue I 


196 


SAT AN ELLA 


So Miss Norah discovered she was in love, after all. 
Mamma said so ! no doubt mamma was right. The young 
lady had herself suspected something of the kind long ago, 
but Lady Mary’s authority and remonstrances placed the 
matter beyond question. She was very fond of her mother, 
and, to do her justice, tried hard to follow her ladyship’s 
advice. So she thought the subject over, day by day, 
argued it on every side, in accordance with, in opposition 
to, and independent of, her own inclinations, to find as a 
result, that dming waking and sleeping hours alike, the 
image of Daisy was never absent from her mind. 

Then a new beauty seemed to dawn in the sweet young 
face. The very peasants about the place noticed a change; 
little Ella, playing at being grown-up, pretended she was 
“ Sister Norah going to be married ; ” and papa, when she 
retired with her candle at night, turning fondly to his wife, 
would declare— 

“ She’ll be the pick of the family now, mamma, when 
all’s said and done ! They’re a fair-looking lot, even the 
boys. Divil thank them, then, on the mother’s side! But 
it’s Norah that’s likest yourself, my dear, when we were 
young, only not quite so stout, maybe, and a thought less 
colour in her cheek.” 

Disturbed at the suggestion, while gratified by the com¬ 
pliment, Lady Mary, in a fuss of increased anxiety, felt 
fonder than ever of her child. In Norah’s habits also there 
came an alteration, as in her countenance. She sat much 
in the library, with a book on her knee, of which she 


THE RIVER'S BRIM 


197 


seldom turned a page ; played long solos on the pianoforte, 
usually while the others were out; went to bed early, but 
lay awake for hours; rode very little, and walked a great 
deal, though the walks were often solitary, and almost 
invariably in the direction of a certain waterfall, to which 
she had formerly conducted Miss Douglas, while showing 
off to her new friend the romantic beauties of the Dabble. 

The first day Mr. Walters put his borrowed rod together 
on the banks of this pretty stream, it rained persistently in 
a misty drizzle, borne on the soft south wind. He killed 
an eight pound fish, yet returned to Dublin in an un¬ 
accountable state of disappointment, not to say disgust. 
He got better after dinner, and, with another bottle of dry 
champagne, determined to try again. 

The following morning rose in unclouded splendour— 
clear blue sky, blazing sun, and not a breath of wind. A 
more propitious day could scarcely be imagined for a 
cricket-match, an archery-meeting, or a picnic; but in 
such weather the crafty angler leaves rod and basket at 
home. Daisy felt a little ashamed of these paraphernalia 
in the train, but proceeded to the water-side, nevertheless, 
and prepared deliberately for his task, looking up and 
down the stream meanwhile with considerable anxiety. 

All at once he felt his heart beating fast, and began to 
flog the waters with ludicrous assiduity. 

It is difficult to explain the gentleman’s perturbation 
(for why was he there at all ?), though the lady’s astonish- 
njent can easily be accounted for, when Norahj thinking of 


198 


SATANELLA 


him every moment, and visiting this particular spot only 
because it reminded her of his presence, found herself, at a 
turn in the river, not ten paces from the man whom, a 
moment before, she feared she was never to see again ! 

Yet did she remain outwardly the more composed of the 
two, and was first to speak. 

“ Daisy ! ” she exclaimed—Captain Walters—I never 
thought you were still in Ireland. You’ll he coming to the 
Castle to dinner, anyhow.” 

He blushed, he stammered, he looked like a fool (though 
Norah didn’t think so), he got out with difficulty certain 
incoherent sentences about “fishing,” and “flies,” and 
“liberty from your father,” and lastly, recovering a little, 
“ the ten-pounder I rose and you landed, by the black 
stump there, under the willow.” 

As he regained his confidence, she lost hers—almost 
wishing she hadn’t come, or had put her veil down, or, she 
didn’t exactly know what. In a trembling voice, and 
twining her fingers nervously together, she propounded the 
pertinent question :— 

“ How—^how did you find your brother-officers when you 
got back to the regiment? ” 

Its absurdity struck them both. Simultaneously, they 
hurst out laughing: their reserve vanished from that 
moment. He took both her hands in his, and the rod 
lay neglected on the shingle, while he exclaimed— 

“ I aw so pleased to see you again ! Miss Macormac— 
Norah! I fished here all yesterday, hoping you’d come. 


^^THE RIVERS BRIM^' 


199 


I’m glad though you didn’t; you’d have got such a 
wetting.” 

“ Did you, now?” was her answer, while the beautiful 
grey eyes deepened, and the blood mantled in her cheek. 
“ Indeed, then, it’s for little I’d have counted the wetting, 
if I’d only known. But how was I to know, Captain 
Walters—well, Daisy, then—that you’d be shooting up the 
river, like a young salmon, only to see me ? And sup¬ 
posing I had known it, or thought it, or wished it even, 
I’m afraid I ought never to have come.” 

“But now you are here,” argued Daisy, with some show 
of reason, “you’ll speak to me, won’t you? and help me 
to fish, and let me walk back with you part of the way 
home ? ” 

It seemed an impotent conclusion, but she was in no 
mood to be censorious. 

“ I’m very pleased to see you, and that’s the truth,” she 
answered; “ but as for fishing. I’ll engage ye’ll never rise 
a fish in the Dabble with a sky like that. I’ll stay just 
five minutes, though, while ye wet your line, anyhow. 
Oh ! Daisy, don’t you remember what a trouble we had 
with the big fish down yonder, the time I ran to fetch the 
gaff?” 

“RememberI” said Daisy, “I should think I do! 
How quick you were about it. I didn’t think any girl in 
the world could run so fast. I can remember everything 
you’ve said and done since I’ve known you. That’s the 
worst of it, Norah. It’s got to be different after to-day.” 


200 


SATANELLA 


She had been laughing and blushing at his recollections 
of her activity; but she glanced quickly in his face now, 
while her own turned very grave and pale. 

“ Ye’re coming to the Castle, of course,” said she. 
“ I’ll run home this minute, and tell mamma to order a 
room, and we’ll send the car round to the station for your 
things.” 

She spoke in hurried nervous accents, dreading to hear 
what was coming, yet conscious she had never felt so 
happy in her life. 

Formerly she considered Daisy the lightest-hearted of 
men. Hitherto she scarcely remembered to have seen a 
cloud on his face. She liked it none the worse for its 
gravity now. 

*‘I’ve been very unlucky, Norah,” said he, holding her 
hand, and looking thoughtfully on the river as it flowed 
by. “Perhaps it’s my own fault. I shall never visit at 
Cormacs’-town, nor go into any society where I’ve a chance 
of meeting you again. And yet I’ve done nothing wrong 
nor disgi’aceful as yet.” 

“I knew it!” she exclaimed; “I’d have sworn it on 
the Book ! I told mamma so. He’s a gentleman^ I said, 
and that’s enough for me! ” 

“ Thank you, dear,” answered Daisy, in a failing voice. 
“ I’m glad you didn’t turn against me. It’s bad enough 
without that.” 

“ But what has happened,” she asked, drawing closer to 
his side. “ Couldn’t any of us help you? Couldn’t papa 
advise you what to do ? ” 


THE RIVER'S BRIM 


201 


This has happened, Norah,” he answered gravely ; “ I 
am completely ruined. I have got nothing left in the 
world. Worse still, I am afraid I can scarce pay up all 
I’ve lost.” 

The spirit of her ancestors came into her eyes and 
bearing. Kuin to these, like personal danger, had never 
seemed a matter of great moment, so long as, at any 
sacrifice, honour might be preserved. She raised her head 
proudly, and looked straight in his face. 

‘‘The last must be done,” said she. Must be done, 
I’m telling you, Daisy, and shall be, if we sell the boots, 
you and me, off our very feet! How near can you get to 
what you owe for wages and things ? Of course they’ll 
have to be paid the first.” 

“ If everything goes, I don’t see my way to pay up all,” 
he answered. “ However, they must give me a little time. 
Where I’m to go, though, or what to do, is more than I 
can tell. But Norah, dear Norah! what I mind most is, 
that I mustn’t hope to see you again ! ” 

Her tears were falling fast. Her hands were busy with 
a locket she wore round her neck, the only article of value 
Norah possessed in the world. But the poor fingers 
trembled so they failed to undo the strip of velvet on 
which it hung. At last she got it loose, and pressed it 
into his hand. “ Take it, Daisy,” said she, smiling with 
her wet eyes; “I don’t value it a morsel. It was old 
Aunt Macormac gave it me on my birth-day. There’s 
diamonds in it—not Irish, dear—and it’s worth something. 


202 


SATANELLA 


anyway, though not much. Ah, Daisy ! now, if ye won’t 
take it. I’ll think ye never cared for me one bit! ” 

But Daisy stoutly refused to despoil her of the keepsake, 
though he begged hard, of course, for the velvet ribbon to 
which it was attached; and those who have ever found 
themselves in a like situation will understand that he did 
not ask in vain. 

So Miss Macormac returned to the Castle, and the 
maternal wing, too late for luncheon; but thus far en¬ 
gaged to her ruined admirer that, while he vowed to come 
back the very moment his prospects brightened, and the 
“something” turned up—which we all expect, but so few 
of us experience, she promised, on her part, “ never to 
marry (how could you think it now, Daisy!) nor so much 
as look at anybody else till she saw him again, if it 
wasn’t for a hundred years! ” 

I am concerned to add that Mr. Sullivan’s rod remained 
forgotten on the shingle, where it was eventually picked up 
by one of Mr. Macormac’s keepers, but handled by its 
rightful owner no more. There was nothing to keep Daisy 
in Dublin now, and his funds w^ere getting low. In less 
than twenty-four hours from his parting with Norah 
Macormac he found himself crossing that wild district 
of Roscommon where he had bought the famous black 
mare that had so influenced his fortunes. Toiling on an 
outside car, up the long ascent that led to the farmer’s 
house, he could scarcely believe so short a time had elapsed 
since he visited the same place in the flush of youth and 


THE BIVERS BBIM" 


203 


hope. He felt quite old and broken by comparison. Years 
count for little compared to events; and age is more a 
question of experience than of time. He bad one con¬ 
solation, however, and it lay in the shape of a narrow 
velvet ribbon next his heart. 

Ere he had clasped the farmer’s hand, at his own gate, 
and heard his cheery hospitable greeting, he wondered how 
he could feel so happy. 

“ I’m proud to see ye. Captain ! ” said Denis, flourishing 
his hat round his head, as if it was a slip of blackthorn. 
“ Proud am I an’ pleased to see ye back again—an’ that’s 
the truth ! Ye’re welcome, I tell ye ! Step in, now, an’ 
take something at wanst. See, Captain, there’s a two-year- 
old in that stable; the very moral of your black mare. Ye 
never seen her likes for leppin’ ! Ye’ll try the baste this 
very afternoon, with the blessin’. I’ve had th’ ould saddle 
mended, an’ the stirrups altered to your length.” 


CHAPTER XX 


TAKING THE COLLAR 

The General thought he had never been so happy in his 
life. His voice, his hearing, his very dress seemed to 
partake of the delusion that gilded existence. Springing 
down the steps of his club, with more waist in his coat, 
more pretension in his hat, more agility in his gait, than 
was considered usual, or even decorous, amongst its fre¬ 
quenters, no wonder they passed their comments freely 
enough on their old comrade, ridiculing or deploring his 
fate, according to the various opinions and temper of the 
conclave. 

**What’s up with St. Josephs now?” asked a white- 
whiskered veteran of his neighbour, whose bluff, weather¬ 
beaten face proclaimed him an Admiral of the Red. ‘‘He’s 
turned quite flighty and queer of late. Nothing wrong 
lierey is there?” and the speaker pointed a shaking finger 
to the apex of his own bald head. 

“Not tlierey hut here” answered the sailor, laying his 

remaining arm across his breast. “ Going to he spliced, 
204 


TAKING THE COLLAR 


205 


they tell me. Sorry for it. He’s not a bad sort; and a 
smartish officer, as I’ve heard, in your service.” 

“ Pretty well—so, so. Nothing extraordinary for that^'' 
answered the first speaker, commonly called by irreverent 
juniors “ Old Straps.” ‘‘ He hadn’t much to do in India, 
I fancy; but he’s been lucky, sir, lucky, and luck’s the 
thing! Luck against the world. Admiral, by sea or land! ” 
“Well, his luck’s over now, it seems,” grunted the 
Admiral, whose views on matrimony appeared to differ 
fi:om those of his profession in general. “I’m told he’s 
been fairly hooked by that Miss Douglas. Black-eyed 
girl, with black hair—black, and all black, d— me !— 
and rides a black mare in the park. Hey! Why she 
might be his daughter. How d’ye mean?” 

“More fool he,” replied Straps, with a leer and a grin 
that disclosed his yellow tusks. “A fellow like St. Josephs 
ought to know better.” 

“ I’m not so sure of that,” growled the Admiral. “ Gad, 
sir, if I was idiot enough to do the same thing, d’ye think 
I’d take a d—d old catamaran, that knew every move in the 
game ? No, no, sir; youth and innocence, hey ? A clean 
bill of health, a fair wind, and a pleasant voyage, you know! ” 
“In my opinion, there’s devilish little youth left, and no 
innocence,” answered “ Straps.” “If that’s the girl, she’s 
been hawked about, to my certain knowledge, for the last 
three seasons ; and I suppose our Mend is the only chance 
left—what we used to call a ‘ forlorn hope ’ when I was an 
ensign. He’s got a little money, and they might give him 


203 


SATANELLA 


a command. You never know what this Government will 
do. It’s my belief they’d give that crossing-sweeper a 
command if they were only sure he was quite unfit for it.” 

“ Command he d—d ! ” swore the Admiral. “ He’ll 
have enough to do to command his young wife. What? 
She’s a lively craft, I’ll be bound, with her black eyes. 
Carries a weather-helm, and steers as wild as you please 
in a sea-way. I’ll tell you what it is— Here, waiter ! 
bring me the Globe, Why the — are the evening papers 
so late? ” 

In the rush for those welcome journals, so long expected, 
so eagerly seized, all other topics were instantaneously 
submerged. Long before he could reach the end of the 
street. General St. Josephs was utterly forgotten by his 
brother officers and friends. 

Still he thought he had never been so happy in his life. 
The word is used advisedly, for surely experience teaches 
us that real happiness consists in tranquillity and repose, in 
the slumber rather than the dream, in the lassitude that 
soothes the patient, not the fever-fit of which it is the 
result. Can a man be considered happy who is not com¬ 
fortable ? and how is comfort compatible with anxiety, loss 
of appetite, nervous tremors, giddiness, involuntary blushing, 
and the many symptoms of disorder, who could be cured 
heretofore by advertisement, and which are the invariable 
accompaniments of an epidemic, invincible by pill or 
potion, and yielding only to the homoeopathic treatment 
of marriage. 


TAKING THE COLLAB 


207 


In this desperate remedy St. Josephs was anxious to 
experimentalise, and without delay. Yet his tact was 
supreme. Since the memorable walk in Kensington 
Gardens, when he laid her under such heavy obligations, 
his demeanour had been more that of a friend than a lover 
—more, perhaps, that of a loyal and devoted subject to his 
sovereign mistress, than either. She wondered why he 
never asked her, what she had done with all that money ? 
Why, when she alluded to the subject, he winced and 
started, as from a touch on a raw wound. Once she 
very nearly told him all. They were in a box at the 
Opera, so far unobserved that the couple who had accom¬ 
panied them seemed wholly engrossed with each other. 
Satanella longed to make her confession—ease her con¬ 
science of its burden, perhaps, though such a thought 
was cruel and unjust—shake the yoke from off his neck. 
She had even got as far as, “ I’ve never half thanked you. 
General—” when there came a tap at the box-door. Enter 
an irreproachable dandy, then a confusion of tongues, a 
laugh, a solo, injunctions to silence, and the opportunity 
was gone. Could she ever find courage to seek for it 
again ? 

Nevertheless, day by day she dwelt more on her admirer’s 
forbearance, his care, his tenderness, his chivalrous devo¬ 
tion. Though he never pressed the point, it seemed an 
understood thing that they were engaged. She had 
forbidden him to visit her before luncheon, but he spent 
his afternoons in her drawing-room; and, on rare occasions. 


SAT AN ELL A 


‘20S 


was admitted in the evening, when an elderly lady, sup¬ 
posed to be Blanche’s cousin, came to act chaperone. The 
walks in Kensington Gardens had been discontinued. Her 
heart could not but smite her sometimes, to think that she 
never gave him but one, when she wanted him to do her a 
favour. 

Had he been more exacting, she would have felt less 
self-reproach, but his patience and good huuiour cut her 
to the quick. 

“You brute!” she would say, pushing her hair back, 
and frowning at her own handsome face in the glass. 
“ You worse than brute! Unfeeling, unfeminine, I wish 
you were dead I—I wish you were dead I ” 

She had lost her rich colour now, and the hollow eyes 
were beginning to look very large and sad, under their 
black arching brows. 

Perhaps it was the General’s greatest delight to hear 
her sing. This indulgence she accorded him only of an 
evening, when the cousin invariably went to sleep, and 
her admirer sat in an arm-chair with the daily paper 
before his face. She insisted on this screen, and this 
attitude, never permitting him to stand by the pianoforte, 
nor turn over the leaves, nor undergo any exertion of mind 
or body that should break the charm. Who knows what 
golden visions gladdened the war-worn soldier’s heart 
while he leaned back and listened, spellbound by the tones 
he loved? Dreams of domestic happiness and peaceful 
joys, and a calm untroubled future, when doubts and fears 



“ Perhaps it was the General’s greatest delight to hear her sing.” 
Satandla.-] ^OS 




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TAKING THE COLLAR 


209 


sliouki be over, and he could make this glorious creature 
wholly and exclusively his own. 

Did he ever wonder why in certain songs the dear 
voice thrilled with a sweetness almost akin to pain ere 
it was drowned in a loud and brilliant accompaniment, that 
foiled the possibility of remonstrance, while the ditty 
was thrown aside to be replaced by another, less fraught, 
perhaps, with painful memories and associations ? If so, 
he hazarded no remark nor conjecture, satisfied, as it 
seemed, to wait her pleasure, and in all things bow his 
will to hers, sacrificing his desires, his pride, his very 
self-respect to the woman he adored. 

For a time nothing occurred to disturb the General’s 
enforced tranquillity, and he pursued the course he seemed 
to have marked out for himself with a calm perseverance 
that deserved success. In public, people glanced and 
whispered when they saw Miss Douglas on his arm; in 
private, he called daily at her house, talked much Small¬ 
talk and drank a gTeat deal of weak tea; while in solitude 
he asked himself how long this probation was to last, 
resolving nevertheless to curb his impatience, control his 
temper, and if the prize was only to be won by waiting, 
wait for it to the end ! 

Leaving his club, then, unconscious of the Admiral’s 
pity and the sarcasms of Old Straps,” St. Josephs 
walked jauntily through Mayfair, till he came to the well- 
known street, which seemed to him now even as a glade 
in Paradise. The crossing-sweeper blessed him with con- 

14 


210 


SATANELLA 


siderable emphasis, brushing energetically in his path ; 
for when going the General was invariably good for six¬ 
pence, and on propitious days would add thereto a shilling 
as he returned. 

On the present occasion, though his hand was in his 
pocket, it remained there with the coin in its finger and 
thumb; for the wayfarer stopped petrified in the middle 
of the street; the sweeper held his tattered hat at arm’s- 
length, motionless as a statue; and a bare-headed 
butcher’s-boy, standing erect in a light cart, pulled his 
horse on its haunches, and called out— 

“Now then, stoopid! D’ye want all the road to 
yerself?” grazing the old officer’s coat-tails as he drove 
by with a brutal laugh. 

But neither irreverence nor outrage served to divert the 
General’s attention from the sight that so disturbed his 
equanimity. 

“ There’s that d—d black mare again ! ” he muttered, 
while he clenched his teeth, and his cheek turned pale. 
“I’ll put a stop to this one way or the other. Steady, 
steady! No; my game is to be won by pluck and 
patience. It’s very near the end now. Shall I lose it 
by failing in both ? ’’ 

The black mare, looking but little the worse for training, 
was indeed in the act of leaving Blanche’s door. Miss 
Douglas had evidently ridden her that morning in the 
Park. She might have told the General, he thought. 
She might have asked him to accompany her as he used. 


TAKING THE COLLAR 


211 


She ought to have no secrets from him now; but was he 
in truth any nearer her inner life, any more familiar with 
her dearest thoughts and wishes than he had been months 
ago ? Surely she was not treating him well! Surely he 
deserved more confidence than this. The General felt 
very sore and angry; but summoning all his self-command, 
walked upstairs,—and for this he deserves no little credit, 
—with an assured step, and a calm, unruffled brow. 

“ Miss Douglas was dressing,” the servant said. 
‘‘ Miss Douglas had been out for a ride. Would the 
General take a seat, and look at to-day’s paper ? Miss 
Douglas had said ^particular' she would be at home.” 

It was irritating to wait, but it was soothing to know 
she was at home partic'lar" when he called. The 
General sat down to peruse the advertisement sheet of the 
paper, reading absently a long and laudatory description 
of the trousseaux and other articles for family use supplied 
by a certain house in tlie city at less than cost price! 


CHAPTER XXI 

A SNAKE IN THE GRASS 

His studies were soon interrupted by the rustle of a dress 
on the staircase. With difficulty he forbore rushing out 
to meet its wearer, but managed to preserve the com¬ 
posure of an ordinary morning visitor, when the door 
opened, and—enter Mrs. Lushington! She must have 
read his disappointment in his face; for she looked half- 
amused, half-provoked, and there was no less malice than 
mirth in her eyes while she observed— 

“Blanche will be down directly. General, and don’t be 
afraid I shall interrupt your tete-a-tete^ for I am going 
away as soon as I’ve written a note. You can rehearse 
all the charming things you have got to say in the mean¬ 
time.” 

He had recovered his savoir-faire, 

“Rehearse them to yoaV he asked, laughing. “It 
would be pretty practice, no doubt. Shall I begin ? ” 
“ Not now,” she answered, in the same tone. “ There 

is hardly time; though Blanche wouldn’t be very cross 
212 


A SNAKE IN THE GRASS 


213 


about it, I dare say. She is liberal enough, and knows 
she can trust me.'* 

‘‘I am sure you are a true friend,” he returned 
gi-avely. “ Miss Douglas—Blanche—has not too many, 
I hope you will always remain one of her staunchest and 
best.” 

She smiled sadly. 

“Do you really mean it?” said she, taking his hand. 
“You can’t imagine how happy it makes me to hear 
you say so. I thought you considered me a vain, ignorant, 
frivolous little woman, like the rest.” 

Perhaps he did, but this was not the moment to confess 
it. 

“ AYhat a strange world it would be,” he answered, 
“if we knew the real opinions of our friends. In this 
case, Mrs. Lushington, you see how wrong you were 
about mine.” 

“I believe you. General!” she exclaimed. “I feel 
that you are truth itself. I am sure you never deceived a 
woman in your life, and I cannot understand how any 
woman could find it in her heart to deceive yon. One 
ought never to forgive such an offence, and I can believe 
that you never would.” 

He thought her earnestness unaccountable, and wholly 
uncalled for; but his senses were on the alert to catch 
the first symptoms of Blanche’s approach, and he answered 
rather absently—■ 

“ Quite right! Of course not. Double-dealing is the 


214 


SATANELLA 


thing I hate. You may cheat me once; that is your 
fault. It is my own if you ever take me in again.” 

“No wonder Blanche values your good opinion,” said 
Mrs. Lushington meaningly. “ She has not spent her 
life amongst people whose standard is so high. Hush ! 
here she comes. Ah! General, you won’t care about 
talking to me now! ” 

She gave him one reproachful glance in which there was 
a little merriment, a little pique, and a great deal of tender 
interest, ere she departed to write her note in the back 
drawing-room. 

It was impossible not to contrast her kind and deferential 
manner with the cold, collected bearing of Miss Douglas, 
who entered the room, like a queen about to hold her court, 
rather than a loving maiden, hurrying to meet her lord. 

She had always been remarkable for quiet dignity in 
motion or repose. 

It was one of the many charms on which the General 
lavished his admiration, but he could have dispensed with 
this royal composure now. It seemed a little out of place 
in their relative positions. Also he would have liked to see 
the colour deepen in her proud impassive face, though his 
honest heart ached while he reflected how the bright tints 
had faded of late, how the glory of her beauty had departed, 
leaving her always pale and saddened now. 

He would have asked a leading question, hazarded a 
gentle reproach, or in some way made allusion to the arrival 
of his hHe noir, but her altered looks disarmed him ; and it 


A SNAK£J IN THE GBASS 


215 


was Satanella herself who broached the subject, by quietly 
informing her visitor she had just returned from riding the 
black mare in the Park. “ Do you mind ? ” she added, 
rising in some confusion to pull a blind down, while she 
spoke. 

Here would have been an opportunity for a confession of 
jealousy, an appeal to her feelings, pleadings, promises, 
protestations,—to use the General’s own metaphor,—‘‘ an 
attack along the whole line; ” but how was he thus to offer 
decisive battle, with his flank exposed and threatened, with 
Mrs. Lushington’s ears wide open and attentive, while 
her pen went scribble, scribble, almost in the same room ? 

** I mind everything you do,” said he gallantly, “ and 
object to nothing ! If I did want to get up a gi’ievance, I 
should quarrel with jmu for not ordering me to parade in 
attendance on you in the Park. My time, as you know, is 
always yours, and I am never so happy as with you. 
Blanche (dropping his voice), I am never really happy when 
you are out of my sight.” 

She glanced towards the writing-table, and though the 
folding-doors, half-shut, concealed that lady’s person, 
seemed glad to observe, by the continual scratching of a 
pen, that Mrs. Lushington had not yet finished her note. 

“ You are alw'ays good and kind,” said Blanche, forcing 
a smile. “ Far more than I deserve. Will you ride 
another day, early ? Thanks; I knew you would. I 
should have asked you this morning but I had a head-ache, 
and thought I should only be a bore. Besides, I expected 


216 


SAT AN ELL A 


you in the afternoon. Then Clara came to luncheon, and 
we went upstairs, and now the carriage will be round in five 
minutes. That is the way the day goes by ; yet it seems 
very long too, only not so bad as the night.” 

Again his face fell. It was up-hill work, he thought. 
Surely women were not usually so difficult to woo, or his 
own memory played him false, and his friends romanced 
unpardonably in their narratives. But, nevertheless, in 
all the prizes of life that which seemed fairest and best 
hung highest out of reach, and he would persevere to the 
end. Aye ! even if he should fail at last! 

Miss Douglas seemed to possess some intuitive know¬ 
ledge of his intention; and conscious of his determination 
to overcome them, was perhaps the more disposed to throw 
difficulties in his path. He should have remembered that 
in love as in war, a rapid flank movement and complete 
change of tactics will often prevail, when vigilance, 
endurance, and honest courage have been tried in vain. 

Satanella could not but appreciate a delicacy that forbade 
further inquiry about the black mare. No sooner had she 
given vent to her feelings, in the little explosion recorded 
above, than she bitterly regretted their expression, com¬ 
paring her wayward petulant disposition with the temper 
and constancy displayed by her admirer. Sorrowful, 
softened, filled with self-reproach, she gave him one of her 
winning smiles, and bade him forgive her display of ill- 
humour, or bear with it, as one of many evil qualities, 
the result of her morbid temperament and isolated lot. 


A SNAKU IN THE GBA88 


217 


“ Then I slept badly, and went out tired. The Kide 
was crowded, the sun broiling, the mare disagreeable. 
Altogether, I came back as cross as two sticks. General, 
are you never out of humour ? And how do you get rid of 
your ill-tempers ? You certainly don’t visit them on me/” 
“How could I?” he asked in return. “How can I 
ever be anything but your servant, your slave ? Oh ! 
Blanche, you must believe me noiv. How much longer is 
my probation to last ? Is the time to be always put off 

from day to day, and must I-” 

“ Clara ! Clara ! ” exclaimed Miss Douglas to her friend 
in the back drawing-room, “ shall you never have done 
with those tiresome letters? Have you any idea what 
o’clock it is? And the carriage was ordered at five! ” 
The General smothered a curse. It was invariably so. 
No sooner did he think he had gained a secure footing, 
wrested a position of advantage, than she cut the ground 
from under him, pushed him down the hill, and his labour 
was lost, his task all to begin again I It seemed as if she 
could not bear to face her real position, glancing off at a 
tangent, without the slightest compunction, from the one 
important topic he was constantly watching an opportunity 
to broach. 

“ Just done ! and a good day’s work too ! ” replied Mrs. 
Lushington’s silver tones from the writing-table, and it 
must have been a quicker ear than either Satanella’s or the 
General’s to detect in that playful sentence the spirit of 
mischievous triumph it conveyed. 



218 


SATANELLA 


Mrs. Lushington was delighted. She felt sure she had 
fathomed a secret, discovered the clue to an intrigue, and 
by such means as seemed perfectly fair and justifiable to 
her warped sense of right and wrong. 

Finding herself a third person in a small party that 
should have been limited to two, she made urgent 
correspondence her excuse for withdrawing to such a 
distance as might admit of overhearing their conversation, 
while the lovers, if lovers indeed they were, should think 
themselves unobserved. 

So she opened Satanella’s blotting-book, and spread a 
sheet of note-paper on its folds. 

Mrs. Lushington had a quick eye, no less than a ready 
wit. Blanche’s blotting-paper was of the best quality, 
soft, thin, and absorbent. Where the writing-book opened, 
so shrewd an observer did not fail to detect the words 
“ Roscommon, Ireland,” traced clear and distinct as a 
lithograph, though reversed. Looking through the page, 
against the light, she read Daisy’s address in his hiding- 
place with his humble friend Denis plainly enough, and the 
one word “ Registered ” underlined at the corner. 

“ Enfin je te pince I ” she muttered below her breath. 
It was evident Satanella was in Daisy’s confidence, that 
she knew his address,—which had been extorted indeed 
with infinite trouble from a lad whom he had sent to 
England in charge of the precious mare,—and had written 
to him within the last day or two. It was a great 
discovery! Her hand shook from sheer excitement. 


A SNAKE IN THE GBASS 


219 


while she considered how best it could he turned to 
account, how it might serve to wean the General of his 
infatuation, to detach him from her friend, perhaps at last 
to secure him for herself. But she must proceed 
cautiously; make every step good, as she went on; prove 
each link of the chain, while she forged it; and when 
Blanche was fairly in the toils, show her the usual mercy 
extended by one woman to another. 

Of course, she wrote her notes on a fresh page of the 
blotting-hook. Of course, she rose from her employment 
frank, smiling, unsuspicious. Of course, she was more 
than usually affectionate to Blanche, and that young lady, 
well-skilled in the wiles of her own sex, wondering what 
had happened, watched her friend’s conduct with some 
anxiety and yet more contempt. 

“Good-hye, Blanche.” 

“ Good-hye, Clara.” 

“ Come again soon, dear ! ” 

“ You may depend upon me, love! ” 

And they kissed each other with a warmth of affection 
in no way damped or modified because Blanche suspected, 
and Clara resolved, henceforth it must be war to the 
Imife ! 

In taking her leave of the General, however, Mrs. 
Lushington could not resist an allusion to their previous 
conversation, putting into her manner so much of tender 
regard and respectful interest as was pleasing enough to 
him and inexpressibly galling to her friend. 


220 


8ATANELLA 


“Have you said your say?” she asked, looking very 
pretty and good-humoured as she gave him both hands. 
“ I’m sure you had lots of time, and the best of oppor¬ 
tunities. Don’t you think I’m very considerate ? ” 

“ More—very generous ! ” 

“ Come and see me soon. Whenever you like. With or 
without dear Blanche. She won’t mind ; I’m always at 
home, to either of you—or both. 

Then she made a funny little curtsey, gave him one more 
smile, one sidelong sorrowful glance, with her hand on the 
door, and was gone. 

Blanche’s spirit rose to arms; every instinct of her sex 
urged her to resist this unconscionable freebooter, this 
lawless professor of piracy and annexation. After all, 
whether she cared for him or not, the General was her own 
property. And what right had this woman to come 
between mistress and servant, with her becks and leers, 
her smiles and wiles, and meretricious ways? She had 
never valued her lover higher than at the moment Mrs. 
Lushington left the room ; hut he destroyed his advantage, 
kicked down all his good fortune, by looking in Miss 
Douglas’s face Vvith an expression of slavish devotion, while 
he exclaimed— 

“ How different that woman is from you, Blanche. 
Surely, my queen, there is nobody like you in the world ! ” 


CHAPTER XXII 

AN EXPERT 

Returning from morning stables to his barrack-room, 
Soldier Bill found on his table a document that puzzled 
him exceedingly. He read it a dozen times, turned it up¬ 
side down, smoothed it out with his riding-whip, all in vain. 
He could make nothing of it; then he summoned Barney. 
“ When did this thing come, and who brought it ? ” 

“ Five minutes back,” answered the batman. Left by 
a young man on fatigue duty.” 

So Barney, with military exactitude, described a govern¬ 
ment official, in the costume of its telegi’aphic department. 

“ Did the man leave no message ? ” continued Bill. 

“ Said as there was nothing to pay,” answered Barney, 
standing at “ attention ” and obviously considering this 
part of his communication satisfactory in the extreme. 

‘‘ Said there was nothing to pay! ” mused his master, 
and I would have given him a guinea to explain any two 
words of it.” Then he took his coat olf, and sat doggedly 
down to read the mysterious sentences again and again. 

The soldier, as he expressed it, was ‘‘ up a tree 1 ” That 
221 


2‘22 


SATANELLA 


the message must be of importance, he argued from its 
mode of transmission. The sender’s name was legible 
enough, and his own address perfectly correct. He felt 
sure Daisy would not have telegraphed from the wilds of 
Roscommon but on a matter of urgency; and it did seem 
provoking that the only sense to be got out of the whole 
composition, was in the sentence with which it concluded— 
^‘Do not lose a moment.” In his perplexity, he could 
think of no one so likely to help him as Mrs. Lushington. 

“ She has more ‘nous’ in that pretty little head of hers,” 
thought Bill, as he plunged into a suit of plain clothes, 
“ than the Horse Guards and the War Office put together. 
She^ll knock the marrow out of this, if anybody can ! I’ve 
heard her guess riddles right off, the first time she heard 
them; and there isn’t her equal in London for acting 
charades and games of that kind, where you must be down 
to it, before they can say ‘knife.’ By Jove, I shouldn’t 
wonder if this was a double acrostic after all ? Only Daisy 
wouldn’t be such a flat as to telegraph it all the way from 
Ireland to me. I hope she’ll see me. It’s awfully early. 
I wonder if she’ll blow me up for coming so soon.” 

These reflections, and Catamount’s thorough-bred canter, 
soon brought him to Mrs. Lushington’s door. She was 
at home, and sufficiently well prepared for exercises of 
ingenuity, having been engaged, after breakfast,—though 
it is but fair, to say, such skirmishes were of unusual 
occurrence,—in a passage-of-arms with Frank. 

The latter was a good-natured man, with a bad temper. 


AN EXPERT 


223 


His wife’s temper was excellent; but her enemies, and 
indeed her friends, said she was iW-natured, Though 
scarcely to be called an attached couple, these two seldom 
found it worth while to quarrel, and so long as the selfish¬ 
ness of each did not clash with the other, they jogged on 
quietly enough. It was only when domestic affairs threAv 
them together more than common, that the contact elicited 
certain sparks, such as crackled on occasion into what 
observers below-stairs called a ‘^flare-up.” 

To-day they happened to breakfast together. After a 
few “ back-handers,” and some rapid exchanges, in which 
the husband came by the worst, their conversation turned 
on money-matters—always a sore subject, as each con¬ 
sidered that the other spent more than a due share of their 
joint income. Complaints led to recriminations, until at 
length, goaded by the sharpness of his wife’s tongue, Mr. 
Lushington exclaimed : “ Narrow-minded, indeed ! Paltry 
economy ! I can tell you, if I didn’t keep a precious tight 
hand, and deny myself—well—lots of things. I say if I 
didn’t deny myself lots of things, I should be in the Bench 
—that’s all.” 

“ Then you are a very bad financier, ” she retorted, 
“ worse than the Chancellor of the Exchequer even. 
But I don’t believe it. I believe you’re saving money 
every day.” 

He rose from his chair in a transport of irritation, 
the skirts of his dressing-gown floating round him, like 
the rags of a whirling dervish. 


‘224 


SATANELLA 


“ Saving money ! ” he repeated, in a sort of suppressed 
scream. “I can only tell you I had to borrow five 
hundred last week, and from little Sharon too. That 
doesn’t mean getting it at three per cent.! ” 

“Then you ought to be ashamed of yourself!” said 
she. “ No gentleman borrows money from Sharon. ” 

“ No gentleman ! ” he vociferated. “ Upon my life, 
Mrs. Lushington, I wish you would try to be more 
temperate in your language. No Grentleman, indeed! 
I should like to know what you call General St. Josephs ? 
I fancy he is rather a favourite of yours. All I can tell 
you is, he borrows money of Sharon. Lumps of money, 
at exorbitant interest. ” 

“ It’s very easy to sa\j these things,” she replied. 
“But you can’t prove them! ” 

“Can’t I?” was his rejoinder. “Well, I suppose you 
won’t doubt my word, when I give you my honour, that 
he consulted me himself about a loan from this very 
man. Three thousand pounds, Mrs. Lushington—three 
thousand pounds sterling, and at two days’ notice. 
Didn’t care what he paid for it, and wanted it; well, I 
didn’t ask him why he wanted it; I don’t pry into 
other people’s money-matters. I don’t always think the 
worst of my neighbours. But you’ll allow I’m right, I 
hope! You’ll admit so much at any rate ! ” 

“ That has nothing to do with it,” replied his wife; 
and in this highly satisfactory manner their matrimonial 
bicker terminated. 


AN EXPEBT 


225 


Mrs. Lushington, while remaining, in a modified sense, 
mistress of the position—for Frank retired to his own den, 
when the servants came to take away breakfast—found her 
curiosity keenly stimulated by the little piece of gossip 
thus let fall under the excitement of a conjugal wrangle. 
What on earth could St. Josephs want with three 
thousand pounds? She had never heard he was a 
gambler. On a race-course, she knew, from personal 
observation, that beyond a few half-crowns with the ladies, 
he would not venture a shilling. He had told her 
repeatedly how he abhorred foreign loans, joint-stock 
companies, lucrative investments of all sorts, and money 
speculations of any kind whatever; yet here, if she 
believed her husband, was this wise and cautious veteran 
plunging overhead in a transaction wholly out of keeping 
with his character and habits. There must be a woman 
at the bottom of it! ” thought Mrs. Lushington, not 
unreasonably, resolving at the same time never to rest till 
she had sifted the whole mystery from beginning to end. 

She felt so keen on her quest, that she could even have 
found it in her heart to seek Frank in his own snuggery, 
and, sinking her dignity, there endeavoured to worm out of 
him further particulars, when Catamount was pulled up 
with some difficulty at her door, and his master’s card sent 
in, accompanied by a humble petition that the early visitor 
might be admitted. Having darkened her eyelashes just 
before breakfast, and being, moreover, dressed in an 
unusually becoming morning toilet, she returned a favour- 
15 


226 


SATANELLA 


able answer, so that Soldier Bill, glowing from his ride, 
was ushered into her boudoir without delay. 

Her womanly tact observed his fussed and anxious 
looks. She assumed, therefore, an air of interest and 
gravity in her own. 

‘‘There’s some bother,” said she kindly; “I see it 
in your face. How can I help you, and what can 
I do ? ” 

“ You’re a conjuror, by Jove! ” gasped Bill, in a 
paroxysm of admiration at her omniscience. 

You're not, at any rate ! ” she replied, smiling. “But, 
come, tell me all about it. You’re in a scrape ? You’ve 
been a naughty boy. What have you been doing? Out 
with it! ” 

“ It’s nothing of my own ; I give you my honour,” 
replied Bill. “ It’s Daisy’s turn now. Look here, Mrs. 
Lushington. I’m completely puzzled—regularly knocked 
out of time. Bead that. I can’t make head or tail 
of it.” 

He handed her the telegram, which she perused in 
silence, then burst out laughing, and read it again aloud 
for his edification :— 

“ Very strong Honey just arrived—hidls a-light on Bank 
of Ireland—Sent hy an unknown Fiend—fail immediately 
—Sell Chief—consult a Gent, and strip Aaron at once — 
Do not lose a moment," 

“Mr. Walters must be gone raving mad, or is this a 
practical joke, and why do you bring it here ? ” 


AN EXPEET 


227 


don’t think it’s a joke,” answered Bill ruefully. “ I 
brought it because you know everything. If you can’t help 
me, I’m done ! ” 

“ Quite right,” said she. “Always consult a woman in 
a tangle. Now this thing is just like a skein of silk. If 
we can’t unravel it at one end, we begin at the other. In 
the first place, who is Aaron ? and how would you proceed 
to strip him ? ” 

“ Aaron, ” repeated Bill thoughtfully. “ Aaron—I never 
heard of such a person. There’s Sharon, you know; but 
stripping him would be out of the question. It’s generally 
the other way ! ” 

“Sharon’s a money-lender, isn’t he?” she asked. 
“What business have you to know anything about him, you 
wicked young man ? ” 

“ Never borrowed a sixpence in my life,” protested Bill, 
which was perfectly true. “ But I’ve been to him often 
enough lately about this business of Daisy’s. We’ve 
arranged to get fifteen hundred from him alone. Perhaps 
that is what is meant by stripping him. But it was all to 
be in hard money; and though I know Sharon sometimes 
makes you take goods, I never heard of his sending a fellow 
bulls, or strong honey, or indeed, anything but dry sherry 
and cigars.” 

She knit her brows and read the message again. “I 
think I have it,” said she. “ ‘ Strip Aaron.' That must 
mean ‘ Stop Sharon.’ ‘ Sell the Chiefy —that’s ‘ Tell the 
Colonel.’ Then ^ fail immediately ’ signifies that the 


228 


8ATANELLA 


writer means to cross by the first boat. Where does 
it come from—Dublin or Roscommon?” 

“Roscommon,” answered Bill. “They’re not much in 
the habit of telegraphing up there.” 

“ Depend upon it Daisy has dropped into a good thing. 
Somebody must have left, or lent, or given him a lot of 
money. I have it! I have it! This is how you must 
read it,” she exclaimed, and following the lines wuth her 
taper finger, she put them into sense with no little 
exultation, for the benefit of her admiring listener. 
“ ‘ Very strange ! Money just arrived. Bill at sight, 
on Ba7ik of Ireland. Sent hy an unknown Friend. Sail 
immediately. Tell Chief. Consult Agent, and stop Sharon 
at once. Do not lose a moment.’ There, sir, should I, or 
should I not, make a good expert at the Bank.” 

“ You’re a witch—simply a witch,” returned the de¬ 
lighted Bill. “ It’s regular, downright magic. Of course, 
that’s what he means. Of course, he’s come into a fortune. 
Hurrah 1 hurrah! Mrs. Lushington, have you any objection? 
I should like to throw my hat in the street, please, and put 
my head out of window to shout 1 ” 

“I beg you’ll put out nothing of the kind!” she 
answered, laughing. “ If you must be a boy, at least be 
a good boy, and do what I tell you.” 

“ I should think I tvoidd just! ” he protested, still in 
his paroxysm of admiration. “ You know more than the 
examiners at Sandhurst! You could give pounds to the 
senior department! If you weren’t so—I mean if you 


AN EXPERT 


229 


were old and ugly—I should really believe what I said at 
first, that you’re a witch ! ” 

She smiled on him in a very bewitching manner; but 
her brains were hard at work the while recapitulating all 
she had learned in the last twenty-four hours, with a 
pleasant conviction that she had put her puzzle together 
at last. Yes, she saw it clearly now. The registered 
envelope of which she found the address, in reverse, on 
Blanche’s blotting-paper, must have contained those very 
bills, mentioned in Daisy’s telegram. It had stmck her at 
the time that the handwriting was stiff and formal, as if 
disguised; but this served to account for the mysterious 
announcement of an unknown fiend ! ” She was satisfied 
that Miss Douglas had sent anonymously the sum he wanted 
to the man she loved. And that sum Bill had already told 
her was three thousand pounds—exactly the amount, ac¬ 
cording to her husband’s version, lately borrowed by the 
General from a notorious money-lender. Was it possible 
Satanella could thus have stripped one admirer to benefit 
another? It must be so. Such treachery deserved no 
mercy, and Mrs. Lushington determined to show none. 

She considered how far her visitor might be trusted with 
this startling discovery. It was as well, she thought, that 
he should be at least partially enlightened, particularly as 
the transaction was but little to the credit of any one con¬ 
cerned, and could not, therefore, be made public too soon. 
So she laid her hand on Bill’s coat-sleeve, and observed 
impressively— 


230 


SATANELLA 


Never mind about my being old and ugly, but attend to 
what I say. Daisy, as you call him, has evidently found a 
good friend. Now I know who that friend is. Don’t ask 
me how I found it out. I never speak without being sure. 
That money came from Miss Douglas.” 

Bill opened his eyes and mouth. Miss Douglas ! ” he 
repeated. ‘‘ Not the black girl with the black mare ? ” 
The black girl with the black mare, and no other,” she 
answered. “Miss Douglas has paid his debts, and saved 
him from ruin. What return can a man make for such 
generosity as that? ” 

“ She’s a trump, and he ought to marry her! ” exclaimed 
the young officer. “No great sacrifice either. Only,” he 
added, on reflection, “she looks a bit of a Tartar—wants 
her head let quite alone at her fences, I should think. 
She’d be rather a handful; but Daisy wouldn’t mind 
that. Yes; he’s bound to marry her no doubt; and I’ll 
see him through it.” 

“ I quite agree with you,” responded Mrs. Lushington, 
“ but I won’t have you talk about ladies as if they were 
hunters. It’s bad style, young gentleman, so don’t do it 
again. Now, attend to what I tell you. Jump on that 
poor horse of yours ; it must be very tired of staring into 
my dining-room windows. Go to your agent, and send him 
to Sharon. Let your Colonel know at once. When Daisy 
arrives, impress on him all that he is bound in honour to do, 
and you may come and see me again, whenever you like, to 
report progress.” 


AN EXPEBT 


231 


So Bill leapt into the saddle in exceedingly good spirits, 
while Mrs. Lushington sat down to her writing-table, with 
the self-satisfied sensations of one who has performed an 
action of provident kindness and good-will. 


CHAPTER XXIII 

THE DEBT OF HONOUR 

Daisy’s astonishment, on receiving by post those docu¬ 
ments that restored him to the world from his vegetation 
in Roscommon, was no less unbounded than his joy. 
When he opened the registered letter, and bills for the 
whole amount of his liabilities fluttered out, he could 
scarcely believe his eyes. Then he puzzled himself to no 
purpose, in wild speculations as to the friend who had thus 
dropped from the skies at his utmost need. He had an uncle 
prosperous enough in worldly matters, but this uncle hated 
parting with his money, and was, moreover, abroad, whereas 
the welcome letter bore a London post-mark. He could 
think of no other relative nor friend rich enough, even if 
willing, to assist him in so serious a difficulty. The more 
he considered his good luck, the more inexplicable it 
appeared; nor, taking his host into consultation, did that 
worthy’s suggestions tend to elucidate the mystery. 

In the first place, recalling many similar instances under 
his own observation, Denis opined that the money must 

232 


THE DEBT OF HONOUR 


283 


have been hidden up for his guest, long ago, by his great 
grandmother, in a stocking, and forgotten ! Next, that 
the Prussian Government, having heard of the mare’s 
performances at Punchestown, had bought her for breeding 
purposes, at such a sum as they considered her marketable 
value. And, lastly (standing the more stoutly by this 
theory, for the failure of its predecessors), that the whole 
amount had been subscribed under a general vote of the 
Kildare Street Club, in testimony of their admiration for 
Daisy’s bold riding and straightforward conduct as a 
sportsman ! 

Leaving him perfectly satisfied with this explanation, 
Daisy bade his host an affectionate farewell, and started 
without delay for London, previously telegraphing to his 
comrade at Kensington certain information and instructions 
for his guidance. Warped in its transmission by an imagi¬ 
native clerk in a hurry, we have seen how this message 
confused and distracted the honest perceptions of its 
recipient. 

That young officer was sitting down to breakfast, with 
Venus under his chair, while Benjamin, the badger, poked 
a cautious nose out of his stronghold in the wardrobe, when 
the hasty retreat of one animal, and formidable growiings 
of the other, announced a strange step on the stairs. 
Immediately Daisy rushed into the room, vociferated for 
Barney to look after his traps ” and pay the cab, seized a 
hot plate, wagged his head at his host, and began breakfast 
without further ceremony. 


234 


SATANELLA 


“ Seem peckish, young man,” observed Bill, con¬ 
templating his friend with extreme satisfaction. “ Sick 
as a fool last night, no doubt, and sharp-set this morning 
in consequence. Go in for a cutlet, my boy. Another 
kidney, then. That’s right. Have a suck of the lemon, 
and at him again ! ” 

Munching steadily, Daisy repudiated the imputation of 
sea-sickness, with the scorn of a practised mariner. “ It 
seems to me that I live on that Channel,” said he, “ like a 
ship’s-steward. Bill, or a horse-marine ! Well, I’ve done 
with it now, I hope, for some time. How jolly it is to feel 
straight again ! It’s like your horse getting up, when he’s 
been on his head, without giving the crowner you deserve. 
It was touch-and-go this time, old chap. I say, you got my 
telegram ? ” 

Bill laughed. “ I did, indeed ! ” he answered ; “ and a 
nice mull they made. Bead it for yourself.” 

Thus speaking, he tossed across the breakfast-table that 
singular communication which his unassisted ingenuity had 
so failed to comprehend. 

Daisy perused it with no little astonishment. “ The 
fools!” he exclaimed. “Why, Bill, you must have 
thought I’d gone mad.” 

“We didj” replied Bill gravely. “ Stark staring, my 
boy. We said we always had considered you ‘ a hatter,’ 
but not so bad as this.” 

“ We !” repeated his Mend. “ What d’ye mean by ive ^ 
You didn’t go jawing about it in the regiment. Bill ? ” 


THE DEBT OF HONOUB 


235 


‘‘ When I say we,” answered the other, with something 
of a blush, ‘‘I mean me and Mrs. Lushington.” 

“What had she to do with it?” asked Daisy, pushing 
his plate away, and lighting a cigar. “ She didn’t send 
the stuff. I’ll take my oath! ” 

“ But she knows who did,” said Bill, filling a 
meerschaum pipe of liberal dimensions, with profound 
gravity. 

Then they smoked in silence for several minutes. 

“ It’s a very rum go,” observed Daisy, after a prolonged 
and thoughtful puff. “ I don’t know when I’ve been so 
completely at fault. Tell me what you’ve heard. Bill, for 
you have heard something, I’m sure. In the first place, 
how came you to take counsel with Mrs. Lushington ? ” 
“ Because she is up to every move in the game,” was the 
answer. “Because she’s the cleverest woman in London, 
and the nicest. Because I was regularly beat, and could 
think of nobody else to help me at short notice. The 
telegram said, ‘Do not lose a moment.’ ” 

“ And what did she make of it? ” asked Daisy. 

“ Tumbled to the whole plant in three minutes,” 
answered Bill. “Put the telegram straight — bulls, 
honey, and all—as easy as wheeling into line. I tell 
you, we know as much as you do now, and more. 
You’ve got three ‘thou,’ Daisy, ready-money down, to 
do what you like with. Isn’t that right ? ” 

Daisy nodded assent. 

“ The Chief’s delighted, and I’ve sent the agent to 


236 


8ATANELLA 


Sharon. Luckily, the little beggar’s not so unreasonable 
as we thought he’d be. That reckons up the telegram, 
doesn’t it ? ” 

Again Daisy nodded, smoking serenely. 

“Then there’s nothing more for you to bother about,” 
continued his host; “ and I’m glad of it. Only, next 
time, Daisy, you won’t pull for an old woman, I fancy, in 
a winning race.” 

“ Nor a young one either,” said his friend. “ But you 
haven’t told me now who the money came from.” 

“ Can’t you guess ? Have you no idea ? ” 

“ Not the faintest.” 

“What should you say to Miss Douglas ‘? ” 

“ Miss Douglas ! ” 

By the tone in which Daisy repeated her name, that 
young lady was obviously the last person in the world from 
whom he expected to receive pecuniary assistance. 

Though no longer peaceful, his meditations seemed 
deeper than ever. At length he threw away the end of his 
cigar with a gesture of impatience and vexation. 

“ This is a very disagreeable business,” said he. 
“ Hang it. Bill, I almost wish the money had never 
come. I can’t send it back, for a thousand’s gone already 
to our kind old major, who promised to settle my book at 
Tattersall’s. I wonder where she got such a sum. By 
Jove, it’s the handsomest thing I ever heard of! What 
would you do. Bill, if you were in my place ? ” 

“Do,” repeated his friend; “I’ve no doubt what I 


THE DEBT OF HONOUR 


237 


slioukl do, I should order Catamount round at once; 
then I think I’d have a brandy-and-soda; in ten minutes 
I’d he at Miss Douglas’s door, and in fifteen I’d have— 
what d’ye call it ?—proposed to her. Proposed to her, my 
boy, all according to regulation. I’m not sure how you set 
about these things. I fancy you go down on your knees ; 
I know you ought to put your arm round their waists; but 
lots of fellows could coach you for all that part, and even if 
you did anything that’s not in the book, this is a case of 
emergency, and, in my opinion, you might chance it! ” 

Having thus delivered himself, the speaker assumed a 
judicial air, smoking severely. 

In plain English, a woman buys one for three 
thousand pounds! ” said Daisy, laughing rather bitterly. 
‘‘And only three thousand bid for him. Going/ 
Going / /” 

“Gone!!!” added Bill, bringing his fist down on the 
table with a bang that startled the badger, and elicited an 
angry bark from Venus. “ K deuced good price, too; I 
only hope I shall fetch half as much when I’m brought to 
the hammer. Why you ought to be delighted, my good 
fellow. She’s as handsome as paint, and the best horse¬ 
woman that ever wore a habit! ” 

“ I don’t deny her riding, nor her beauty, nor her merit 
in every way,” said Daisy, somewhat ruefully. “ In fact, 
she’s much too good for a fellow like me. But do you 
mean, seriously. Bill, that I must marry her because she 
has paid my debts? ” 


238 


SATANELLA 


“I do, indeed,” answered his friend; “and Mrs. 
Lushington thinks so too.” 

Before Daisy’s eyes rose the vision of an Irish river 
glancing in the sunshine, with banks of tender green and 
ripples of molten gold, and a fishing-rod lying neglected on 
its margin, while a fair, fond face looked loving and trustful 
in his o^vn. 

There are certain hopes akin to the child’s soap-bubble 
which we cherish insensibly, admiring their airy grace and 
radiant colouring, almost persuading ourselves of their 
reality, till we apply to them some practical test—then 
behold! at a touch, the bubble bursts, the dream vanishes, 
to leave us only a vague sense of injustice, an uncomfortable 
consciousness of disappointment and disgust. 

“ I conclude Mrs. Lushington understands these things, 
and knows exactly what a fellow ought to do,” said Daisy, 
after another pause that denoted he was in no indiscreet 
hurry to act on that lady’s decision. 

“ Of course she does ! ” answered Bill. “ She’s a regular 
authority, you know, or I wouldn’t have gone to her. You 
couldn’t be in safer hands.” 

Both young men seemed to look on the whole transaction 
in the light of a duel, or some such affair of honour, 
requiring caution no less than courage, and in the conduct 
of which the opinion of a celebrated practitioner like 
Mrs. Lushington was invaluable and unimpeachable. 

“ But if I—if I don’t like her well enough,” said poor 
Daisy, looking very uncomfortable. “Hang it. Bill, when 


THE DEBT OF HONOUR 


239 


one marries a woman, you know, one’s obliged to be always 
with her. Early breakfast, home to luncheon, family 
dinner, smoke out of doors, and in by ten o’clock. I 
shouldn’t like it at all; and then perhaps she’d take me to 
morning visits and croquet parties. Think of that. Bill! 
Like poor Martingale, whose only holiday is when he gets 
the belt on, and can’t stir out of barracks for four-and- 
twenty hours. To be sure. Miss Douglas is a good many 
cuts above Mrs. Martingale ! ” 

“ To be sure she is ! ” echoed his adviser. “ And I dare 
say, after all, Daisy, it is not quite so bad as we think. 
Wet days and that you’d have to yourself, you know, and 
she wouldn’t want you when she had a headache. Mrs. 
Martingale often has headaches, and so should I if I 
liquored up as freely! ” 

“But supposing,” argued Daisy, “ I say only supposing^ 
Bill, one liked another girl better ; oughtn’t that to make a 
difference ? ” 

“ I’m afraid noi,” replied Bill, shaking his head. “ I 
didn’t think of putting the case in that way to Mrs. 
Lushington, but I don’t imagine she’d admit the objection. 
No, no, my boy, it’s no use being shifty about it. You’ve 
got to jump, and the longer you look, the less you’ll like it! 
If it was a mere matter of business, I wouldn’t say a word, 
but see how the case stands. There are no receipts, no 
vouchers ; she has kept everything dark, that you might feel 
under no obligation. Hang it, old fellow, it’s a regular- 
debt of honour; and there’s no way of paying up, that I 
can see, but this.” 


240 


8ATANELLA 


Such an argument was felt to be unanswerable. 

‘‘ A debt of honour,” repeated Daisy. “ I suppose it is. 
Very well; I’ll set about it at once. I can’t begin to-day 
though.” 

Why not ? ” asked his friend. 

No time,” answered the other, who in many respects 
was a true Englishman. “ I’ve got lots of things to do. 
In the first place, I must have my hair cut, of course ! ” 


CHAPTER XXIV 


A PERTINENT QUESTION 

A LETTER, without date or signature, written in an upright, 
clerkly hand, correctly spelt, sufficiently well-expressed, and 
stamped at the General Post Office! St. Josephs had no 
clue to his correspondent, and could but read the following 
production over and over again with feelings of irritation 
and annoyance that increased at each perusal:— 

‘‘ You have been grossly ill-treated and deceived. A 
sense of justice compels the writer of these lines to warn 
you before it is too late. You are the victim of a con¬ 
spiracy to plunder and defraud. One cannot bear to see a 
man of honour robbed by the grossest foul play. General 
St. Josephs is not asked to believe a bare and unsupported 
statement. Let him recapitulate certain facts, and judge 
for himself. He best knows whether he did not lately 
borrow a large sum of money. He can easily discover if 
that amount corresjionds, to a fraction, with the losses 
of a young officer celebrated for his horsemanship. 
Let him ascertain why that person’s debts have stood over 

16 241 


242 


SATANELLA 


till now; also, how and when they have been settled. 
Will he have courage to ask himself, or somebody he trusts 
as himself, whence came these funds that have placed his 
rival in a position to return to England ? Will he weigh 
the answer in the balance of common-sense; or is he so 
infatuated by a certain dark lady that he can he fooled with 
his eyes open, in full light of day ? There is no time to 
lose, or this caution would never have been given. If 
neglected, the General will regret his incredulity as long as 
he lives. Most women would appreciate his admiration ; 
many would be more than proud of his regard. There is 
but one, perhaps, in the world who could thus repay it by 
injury and deceit. He is entreated to act at once on this 
communication, and to believe that of all his well-wishers it 
comes from the sincerest and the most reliable.” 

Everybody affects to despise anonymous letters. No 
doubt it is a wise maxim that such communications should 
be put in the fire at once, and ignored as if they did not 
exist. Nevertheless, on the majority of mankind they 
inflict unreasonable anxiety and distress. The sting 
rankles, though the insect be infinitesimal and con¬ 
temptible ; the blow falls none the less severely that it has 
been delivered in the dark. 

On a nature like the General’s such an epistle as the 
above was calculated to produce the utmost amount of 
impatience and discomfort. To use a familiar expression, 
it worried him beyond measure. Straightforward in all his 
dealings, he felt utterly at a loss when he came in contact 


A PEBTWENT QUESTION 


243 


with mystery or deceit. Nothing could furnish plainer 
proof of the General’s sincere attachment to Miss Douglas 
than the fortitude mth which he confronted certain petty 
vexations and annoyances inseparable from the love affairs 
of young and old. 

Ah me I what perils do environ, 

The man who meddles with cold iron,” 

quoth Hudibras, but surely his risk is yet greater, who 
elects to heat the metal from hilt to point in the furnace of 
his own affections, and burns his fingers every time he 
draws the sword, even in self-defence. To St. Josephs 
who, after a manhood of hardship, excitement, and some 
military renown, had arrived at a time of life when comfort 
and repose are more appreciated, and more desirable every 
day, nothing could have been so distasteful as the character 
he now chose to enact, but for her charms, who had cast 
the part for him, and with whom, by dint of perseverance 
and fidelity, he hoped to play out the play. 

Though he often sighed to remember how heavily he was 
weighted with his extra burden of years, he never dreamed 
of retiring from the contest, nor relaxed for one moment in 
his efforts to attain the goal. 

Twenty times was he on the point of destroying a letter 
that so annoyed him, and twenty times he checked himself, 
with the reflection, that even the treacherous weapon might 
be wrested from the enemy, and turned to his own 
advantage by sincerity and truth. After much cogitation. 


244 


SATANELLA 


he ordered his horse, dressed himself carefully, and rode to 
Miss Douglas’s door. 

That lady was at home. Luncheon, coming out of the 
dining-room untouched, met him as he crossed the hall, and 
the tones of her pianoforte rang in his ears, while he went 
upstairs. When the door opened she rose from the instru¬ 
ment and turned to greet him with a pale face, showing 
traces of recent tears. 

All his self-command vanished at these tokens of her 
distress. 

‘‘ You’ve been crying, my darling,” said he, and taking 
her hand in both his own, he pressed it fondly to his lips. 

It was not a had beginning. Hitherto he had always 
been so formal, so respectful, so unlike a lover; now, when 
he saw she was unhappy, the man’s real natiire broke out, 
and she liked him none the worse. 

Withdrawing her hand, but looking very kindly, and 
speaking in a softer tone than usual, she bade him take no 
notice of her agitation. 

“I’m nervous,” said she. “I often am. You men 
can’t understand these things, but it’s better than being 
cross at any rate.” 

“ Cross ! ” he repeated. “Be as cross and as nervous 
as you like, only make me the prop when you require sup¬ 
port, and the scapegoat when you want to scold.” 

“ You’re too good,” said she, her dark eyes filling again, 
whereat he placed himself very close and took her hand 
once more. “Far too good for me ! I’ve told you so a 


A PEBTINENT QUESTION 


245 


hundred times. General, shall I confess why I was—^was 
making such a fool of myself, and what I was thinking of 
when you came in ? ” 

*‘If it’s painful to you, I’d rather not hear it,” was his 
answer. “ I want to be associated with the sunshine of 
your life, Blanche, not its shade.” 

She shook her head. 

‘‘Whoever takes that part in my life,” she replied, 
“must remain a good deal in the dark. That’s what I 
was coming to. General, it is time you and I should 
understand each other. I feel I could tell you things I 
would not breathe to any other living being. You’re so 
safe, so honourable, so punctiliously, so ridiculously 
honourable, and I like you for it.” 

He looked grateful. 

“ I want you to like me,” said he. “Better and better 
every day. I’ll try to deserve it.” 

“ They say time works wonders,” she answered wistfully, 
“ and I feel I shall. I know I shall. But there are some 
things I must tell you now, while I have the courage. 
Mind, I am prepared to take all consequences. I have 
deceived you. General. Deceived you in a way you could 
never imagine nor forgive.” 

“ So people seem to think,” he observed coolly, pro¬ 
ducing, at the same time, the anonymous letter from his 
pocket. “ I should not have troubled you with such trash, 
but as you have chosen to make me your father-confessor, 
perhaps I ought to say your grand-isAhox confessor, this 


246 


SATANELLA 


morning, you may as well look through it, before we put 
that precious production in the fire.” 

He walked to the window, so as not to see her face while 
she read it, nor was this little act of delicacy and forbear¬ 
ance lost on such a woman as Blanche Douglas. 

Her temper, nevertheless, became thoroughly roused 
before she got to the end of the letter, causing her to place 
herself once more in the position of an adversary. Her 
eyes shone, her brows lowered, and her words came in the 
tight concentrated accents of bitter anger while she bade 
him turn round, and look her in the face. 

“ This has only anticipated me,” said she, pale and 
quivering. “ I stand here, arraigned like any prisoner in 
the dock, but with no excuses to offer, no defence to make. 
It is a fine position, truly; but having been fool enough to 
accept it, I do not mean to shrink from its disgrace. Ask 
me what questions you will, I am not afraid to answer 
them.” 

‘‘Honestly?” said he, “without quibbles or after¬ 
thought, and once for all ? ” 

She looked very stern and haughty. 

“ I am not in the habit of shuffling,” she replied. “ I 
never yet feared results from word or action of mine. And 
what I say, you may depend upon it, I mean.” 

On the General’s face came an expression of confidence 
and resolution she had never noticed before. Meeting his 
regard firmly, it occurred to her that so he must have 
looked when he rode through that Sepoy column, and 


A PEETINENT QUESTION 


247 


charged those Kussian guns. He was a gallant fellow, no 
doubt, hold and kind-hearted too. 

If he had only been twenty years younger, or even ten ! 

He spoke rather lower than usual; but every syllable 
rang clear and true, while his eyes looked frankly and fear¬ 
lessly into her own. 

Then answer my question once for all. Blanche, will 
you be my wife ? Without farther hesitation or delay ? ” 

“ Let me explain first.” 

I ask for no explanation, and will listen to none. Sup¬ 
pose me to repose implicit confidence in the vague accusa¬ 
tions of an anonymous slander. Suppose me to believe 
you false and fickle, a shameless coquette, and myself an 
infatuated old fool. Suppose anything and everything you 
please; hut first answer the question I ask you from the 
bottom of my heart, with this anonymous statement, false 
or true, I care not a jot which, in my hand.” 

He held it as if about to tear it across and fling it in the 
grate. She laid a gentle touch on his arm and whispered 
softly— 

“ Don’t destroy it till I’ve answered your question. Yes. 
There is nobody like you in the world ! ” 

We need not stop to repeat a proverb touching the 
irreverent persistency of Folly in travelling hand-in-hand 
with Age; and of what extravagances the General might 
have been guilty, in his exceeding joy, it is impossible to 
guess, had she not stopped him at the outset. 

“ Sit down there,” she said, pointing to a corner of the 


248 


SATANELLA 


sofa, while establishing herself in an armchair on the other 
side of the fireplace. ‘‘Now that you have had your say, 
perhaps you will let me have mine ! Hush ! I know what 
you mean. I take all that for gi’anted. Stay where you 
are, hold your tongue, and listen to me.” 

“ The first duty of a soldier is obedience,” he answered 
in great glee. “ I’ll be as steady as I can.” 

“It is my right now to explain,” she continued gravely. 
“ Believe me. I most fully appreciate; I never can forget. 
Whatever happened I never could forget the confidence you 
have shown in me to-day. Depend upon it, when you trust 
people so unreservedly, you make it impossible for them to 
deceive. I have always honoured and admired you. During 
the last hour I have learned to—to—well—to think you 
deserve more than honour and esteem. Any woman might 
be proud and happy—yes—happy to belong to you. But 
now, if I am to be your wife—don’t interrupt. Well, as I 
am to be your wife, you must let me tell you everything— 
everything—or I recall my promise.” 

“Don’t do that,” he answered playfully. “But mind, 
I’m quite satisfied with you as you are, and ask to know 
nothing.’' 

She hesitated, and the colour came to her brow while 
she completed her confession. “ You—you lent me some 
money, you know; gave it me, I ought to say, for I’m quite 
sure you never expected to see it back again. It was a 
good deal. Don’t contradict. It tvas a good deal, and I 
wonder how I could have the face to ask for it. But I 


A PEBTINENT QUESTION 


249 


didn’t want it for myself. It was to save from utter ruin a 
very old and dear friend.” 

‘‘ I know all about it,” said he cheerfully. “ At least, I 
can guess. Very glad it should be so well employed. But 
all that was your business, not mine.” 

And you never even asked who got it! ” she continued, 
while again there gathered a mist to veil her large dark 
eyes. 

“My dear Blanche,” he answered, “I was only too 
happy to be of service to you. Surely it was your own, to 
employ as you liked. I don’t want to know any more 
about it, even now.” 

“ But you must know,” she urged. “ I’ve been going to 
tell you ever so often, but something always interrupted us; 
and once, when I had almost got it out, the words seemed 
to die away on my lips. Listen. You know I’m not very 
young.” 

He bowed in silence. The reflection naturally presented 
itself that if she was not very young, he must be very 
old. 

Miss Douglas proceeded, with her eyes fixed on her 
listener, as if she was looking at something a long way off. 

“ Of course I’ve seen and known lots of people in my life, 
and had some great friends—I mean real friends—that I 
would have made any sacrifice to serve. Amongst these 
was Mr. Walters. I used to call him Daisy. General, I— 
I liked him better than all the rest. Better than anybody 
in the world—” 


250 


SATANELLA 


“ And now ? ” asked the General anxiously, but carrying 
a bold front notwithstanding. 

NoWf I know I was mistaken,” she replied. Though 
that’s not the question. Well, after that horrid race—when 
my beautiful mare ought to have won, and didn't —I knew 
Daisy—Mr. Walters, I mean—had lost more than he could 
afford to pay—in plain English, he was ruined ; and worse, 
wouldn’t be able to show, unless somebody came to the 
rescue. I hadn’t got the money myself. Not a hundredth 
part of it! So I asked yoUj and—and—sent it all to him. 
Now you know the whole business.” 

** I knew it long ago,” said he gently. At least, I 
might have known it, had I ever allowed the subject to 
enter my head. Does he know it too, do you think, 
Blanche? ” 

“ Good heavens ! No ! ” she exclaimed. ** That would 
be a complication. You don’t think there’s a chance of 
it! I took every care—every precaution. What should I 
do ? General, what would you advise ? ” 

He smiled to mark how she was beginning to depend on 
him, drawing a good augury from this alteration in her 
character, and would no doubt have replied in exceedingly 
affectionate terms, but that he was interrupted by the 
opening of the drawing-room door, and entrance of a 
servant, who, in a matter-of-fact voice, announced a 
visitor—“ Mr. Walters ! ” 

Blanche turned white to her lips, and muttered rapidly, 
“Won’t you stay, General ? Do !” 


A PEBTINENT QUESTION 


251 


But the General had already possessed himself of his hat, 
and, with an air of good-humoured confidence, that she felt 
did honour both to herself and him, took a courteous leave 
of his hostess, and gave a hearty greeting to the new-comer 
as they passed each other on the threshold. 

“ I think I’ve won the battle,” muttered the old soldier, 
mounting his horse briskly in the street; “ though I’ve left 
the enemy in possession of the ground ! ” 


CHAPTER XXV 

A SATISFACTORY ANSWER 

Daisy, with his hair cut exceedingly short, as denoting that 
he was on the eve of some great crisis in life, entered the 
apartment in the sheepish manner of a visitor who is not 
quite sure about his reception. Though usually of cheerful 
and confident hearing, denoting no want of a certain self- 
assertion, which the present generation call “ cheek,” all 
his audacity seemed to have deserted him, and he planted 
himself in the centre of the carpet, with his hat in his hand 
like the poor, spiritless bridegroom at Netherby, who stood 
“ dangling his bonnet and plume ” while his affianced and 
her bridesmaids were making eyes at young Lochinvar. 

Miss Douglas, too, required a breathing-space to restore 
her self-command. When they had shaken hands, it was 
at least a minute before either could find anything to say. 

The absurdity of the situation struck them both, but the 
lady w^as the first to recover her presence of mind; and, 
with a laugh not the least genuine, welcomed him back to 
England, demanding the latest news from Paddy-land. 

253 


A SATISFACTOBY ANSWFF 


253 


“You’ve been at Cormac’s-town, of course,” said she. 
“ You can tell us all about dear Lady Mary, and your 
pretty friend Norah. I hope she asked to be remembered 
to 77ie.” 

He blushed up to his eyes, turning his hat in his hands, 
as if he would fain creep into it bodily and hide himself 
from notice in the crown. 

She saw her advantage, and gained courage every minute, 
so as to stifle and keep down the gnawing pain that made 
her so sick at heart. 

“I wonder Norah trusts you in London,” she continued, 
with another of those forced smiles. “I suppose you’re 
only on short leave, as you call it, and mean to go back 
directly. Will you have the black mare to ride while you 
are in town ? I’ve taken great care of her, and she’s loolc- 
ing beautiful! ” 

To her own ear, if not to his, there was a catch in her 
breath while she spoke the last words, that warned her she 
would need all her self-command before the play was played 
out. 

He thanked her kindly enough, while he declined the 
offer; but his tone was so grave, so sorrowful, that she 
could keep up the affectation of levity no longer. 

“What is it ? ” she asked, in an altered voice. “Daisy! 
—Mr. Walters! What is the matter ? Are you offended ? 
I was only joking about Norah.” 

“ Offended ! ” he repeated. “ How could I ever be 
offended with ^ou ? But I didn’t come here to talk about 


254 


SATANELLA 


Miss Macormac, nor even Satanella, except in so far as the 
mare is connected with your generosity and kindness.” 

“What do you mean?” she asked, in considerable 
trepidation. “ You were the generous one, for you gave 
me the best hunter in your stable, without being asked.” 

“ As if you had not bought her over and over again ! ” 
he exclaimed, finding voice and words and courage now 
that he was approaching the important topic. “ Miss 
Douglas, it’s no use denying your good deeds, nor pre¬ 
tending to ignore their magnificence. It was only yester¬ 
day I learned the real name of my unknown friend! I 
tell you that money of yours saved me from utter ruin 
—worse than ruin, from such disgrace as if I had com¬ 
mitted a felony, and been sent to prison! ” 

“ I’m sure you look as if you had just come out of one,” 
she interposed, “ with that cropped head. Why do you let 
them cut your hair so short ? It makes you hideous ! ” 
“Never mind my cropped head,” he continued, some¬ 
what baffled by the interruption. “ I hurried here at once, 
to thank you with all my heart, as the best friend I ever 
had in the world.” 

“Well, you’ve done it,” said she. “That’s quite enough. 
Now let us talk of something else.” 

“But I haven't done it,” protested Daisy, gathering, 
from the obstacles in his way, a certain inclination to his 
task or at least a determination to go through with it. “I 
haven’t said half what I’ve got to say, nor a quarter of 
what I feel. You have shown that you consider me a near 


A SATISFACTOBY ANSWFB 


255 


and dear friend. You have given me the plainest possible 
proof of your confidence and esteem. All this instigates 
me—or rather induces me, or, shall I say, encourages me 
—to hope, or perhaps persuade myself of some probability. 
In short. Miss Douglas—can’t you help a fellow out with 
what he’s got to say ? ” 

Flouderinng about in search of the right expressions, she 
would have liked him to go on for an hour. It was delight¬ 
ful to be even on the brink of that paradise from which she 
must presently exclude herself for ever with her own hands, 
and she forbore to interrupt him till he came to a dead 
stop for want of words. 

“ Nonsense ! ” she said. “ Any friend would have done 
as much who had the power. It’s nothing to make a fuss 
about. I’m glad you’re out of the scrape, and there’s an 
end to it.” 

‘‘You were always generous,” he exclaimed. “You 
ought to have been a man; I’ve said so a hundred times— 
only it’s lucky you’re not, or I couldn’t ask you a 
question that I don’t know how to put in the right form.” 

She turned pale as death. It was come, then, at last— 
that moment to which she had once looked forward as a 
glimpse of happiness too exquisite for mortal senses. Here 
was the enchanted cup pressed to her very lip, and she 
must not taste it—must even withdraw her eyes from the 
insidious drink. And yet even now she felt a certain sense 
of disappointment in her empty triumph, a vague misgiving 
that the proffered draught was flatter than it should 




256 


SATANELLA 


be, as if the bottle had been already opened to slake 
another’s thirst. 

^‘Better not ask,” she said, “if the words don’t come 
naturally,—if the answer is sure to be no.” 

In his intense relief he never marked the piteous tone oi 
her voice, nor the tremble of agony passing over her face, 
like the flicker of a Are on a marble bust, to leave its 
features more fixed and rigid than before. 

Even in her keen suffering she wished to spare him. 
Already she was beginning to long for the dull insensibility 
that must succeed this hour of mental conflict, as bodily 
numbness is the merciful result of pain. She dreaded the 
possibility that his disappointment should be anything 
like her own, and would fain have modified the blow she 
had no choice but to inflict, 

Daisy, however, with good reason no doubt, was resolved 
to rush on his fate the more obstinately, as it seemed, 
because of the endeavours to spare both him and herself. 

“I am a plain-spoken fellow,” said he, “and—and— 
tolerably straightforward, as times go. I’m not much used 
to this kind of thing—at least, I’ve never regularly asked 
such a question before. You mustn’t be offended, Miss 
Douglas, if I don’t go the right way to work. But—but— 
it seems so odd that you should have come in and paid my 
debts for me ! Don’t you think I ought—or don’t you 
think you ought—in short, I’ve come here on purpose to 
ask you to marry me. I’m not half good enough, I know, 
and lots of fellows would make you better husbands, I’m 


A SATISFACTOBY ANSWFB 


257 


afraid. But, really now—without joking—won’t you 
try?” 

He had got into the spirit of the thing, and went on 
more swimmingly than he could have hoped There was 
almost a ring of truth in his appeal, for Daisy’s was a 
temperament that flung itself keenly into the excitement 
of the moment, gathering ardour from the very sense of 
pursuit. As he said himself, “ He never could help 
riding, if he got a start.” 

And Miss Douglas shook in every limb while she listened 
with a wan, weary face and white lips, parted in a rigid 
smile. It was not that she was unaccustomed to solici¬ 
tations of a like nature; whatever might be her previous 
experience, scarcely an hour had passed since she sus¬ 
tained a similar attack—and surely to accept an offer of 
marriage ought to be more subversive of the nervous system 
than to refuse; yet she could hardly have betrayed deeper 
emotions had she been trembling in the balance between 
life and death. 

That was a brave heart of hers, or it must have failed to 
keep its own rebellion down so firmly, and gather strength 
to answer in a calm, collected voice— 

There are some things it is better not to think about, 
for they can never be, and this is one of them.” 

How little she knew what was passing in his mind! 
How little she suspected that her sentence was his reprieve ! 
And yet his self-love was galled. He had made a narrow 
escape, and was thankful, no doubt, but felt somewhat 

17 






268 


SATANELLA 


disappointed, too, that his danger had not been greater 
still. 

“ Do you mean it ? ” said he. “ Well, you’ll forgive my 
presumption, and—and—^you won’t forget I asked you.” 

“ Forget /-” 

It was all she said; but a man must have been both blind 
and deaf not to have marked the tone in which those 
syllables were uttered, the look which accompanied them. 
Daisy brandished his hat, thinking it high time to go, lest 
his sentence should be commuted, and his doom revoked. 

She put her hand to her throat, as if she must choke ; 
but mastered her feelings with an effort, forcing herself to 
speak calmly and distinctly now, on a subject that must 
never be approached again. 

“Do not think I undervalue your offer,” she said, 
gathering fortitude with every word; “do not think me 
hard, or changeable, or unfeeling. If you must not make 
me happy, at least you have made me very proud ; and if 
everything had turned out differently, I do hope I might 
have proved worthy to be your wife. You’re not angry 
with me, are you ? And you won’t hate me because it s 
impossible? ” 

“Not the least!” exclaimed Daisy, eagerly. “Don’t 
think it for a moment 1 Please not to make yourself un¬ 
happy about me.” 

“ I am worthy to be your friend,” she continued sad¬ 
dened, and it may be a little vexed, by this remarkable 
exhibition of self-denial; “ and as a friend I feel I owe 



A SATISFACTOBY ANSWFB 


259 


you some explanation, beyond a bare ‘ No, I won’t.’ It 
ought rather to be ‘ No, I can't; ’ because—because, 
to tell you the honest truth, I have promised somebody 
else ! ” 

‘‘I wish you joy with all my heart 1” he exclaimed, 
gaily, and not the least like an unsuccessful suitor. “ I 
hope you’ll be as happy as the day is long! When is it 
to be ? You’ll send me an invitation to the wedding, won’t 
you?” 

Her heart was very sore. He did not even ask the 
name of his fortunate rival, and he could hardly have 
looked more pleased, she thought, if he had been going to 
marry her himself. 

“I don’t know about that,” she answered, shaking her 
head sadly. ‘‘ At any rate, I shall not see you again for 
a long time. Good-bye, Daisy,” and she held out a cold 
hand that trembled very much. 

Good-bye,” said he, pressing it cordially. “ I shall 
never forget your kindness. Good-bye.” 

Then the door shut, and he was gone. 

Blanche Douglas sank into a sofa, and sat there looking 
at the opposite wall, without moving hand or foot, till the 
long summer’s day waned into darkness and her servant 
came with lights. She neither wept, nor moaned, nor 
muttered broken sentences, but remained perfectly motion¬ 
less, like a statue, and in all those hours she asked herself 
but one question—“ Do I love this man? and, if so, how 
can I ever bear to marry the other? ” 






CHAPTER XXVI 


AFTERNOON TEA 

“ I WISH j^ou’d come, Daisy. You’ve no idea what it is, 
facing all those swells by oneself! ” 

“I have not the cheek,” was Daisy’s re^ily. “They 
would chaff one so awfully, if they knew. No, Bill, I’ll 
see you through anything but that.” 

“ Then I must show the best front I can without a 
support,” said the other ruefully. “ Why can’t she let me 
off these tea-fights ? They’re cruelly slow. I don’t see 
the good of them.” 

“ She does,” replied Daisy. “ Not a woman in London 
knows what she is about better than Mrs. Lushington.” 

“ How d’ye mean ? ” asked his less worldly-minded 
friend. 

“Why, you see,” explained Daisy, “one great advan¬ 
tage of living in this wicked town is, that you’ve no duty 
towards your neighbour. People don’t care two straws 
what you do, or how you do it, so long as you keep your 
own line, without crossing theirs. They’ll give you the 


AFTEBNOON TEA 


261 


best of everything, and ask for no return, if only you’ll 
pretend to be glad to see them when you meet, and not 
forget them when you go away. That’s the secret of 
morning visits, card-leaving, wedding-presents, and the 
whole of the sham. Now Mrs. Lushington goes every- 
■where, and never has a ball, nor a drum, nor even a large 
dinner-party of her own, but she says to her friends, ‘ I 
love you dearly, I can’t exist without you. Come and see 
me every Wednesday, except the Derby Day, all the 
London season through, from five to seven p.m. I’ll swear 
to be at home, and I’ll give you a cup of tea! ’ So, for 
nine pen’orth of milk, and some hot water, she repays the 
hospitalities of a nation. She’s pleased, the world is 
gratified, and nobody’s bored but you. It’s all humbug, 
that’s the truth, and I’m very glad I’m so soon to be out 
of it!” 

“ But you won’t leave the Regiment ? ” said his brother 
officer kindly. 

“ Not if I know it! ” was the hearty response. “ Norah 
likes soldiering, and old Macormac doesn’t care what we 
do, if we only visit him in the hunting season. Besides, 
my uncle put that in the conditions when he ‘ parted,’ 
which he did freely enough, I am bound to admit, con¬ 
sidering all things.” 

You’ve not been long about it,” observed Soldier Bill 
in a tone of admiration. “It’s little more than a month 
since you pulled through after that ‘ facer ’ at Punches- 
town; and now, here you are booked to one lady, after 


262 


SAT AN ELL A 


proposing to another, provided with settlements, trousseau, 
bridesmaids, and very likely a bishop to marry you. Hang 
it, Daisy, I’ve got an uncle smothered in lawn; I’ll give 
him the straight tip, and ask him to tie you up fast.” 

“ You’ll have to leave the Park at once,” was Daisy’s 
reply, or you’ll be returned absent when the parade is 
formed. You know. Bill, you daren't be late, for your 
life.” 

The two young men were by this time at Albert Gate, 
having spent a pleasant half-hour together on a couple of 
penny chairs, while the strange medley passed before them 
that throngs Hyde Park on every summer’s afternoon. 
Daisy was far happier than he either hoped or deserved. 
After Satanella’s refusal, he had felt at liberty to follow 
the dictates of his own heart, and lost no time in prose¬ 
cuting his suit with Norah Macormac. The objections 
that might have arisen from want of means were antici¬ 
pated by his uncle’s unlooked-for liberality, and he was to 
be married as soon as the necessary arrangements could be 
made, though, in consideration of his late doings, the 
engagement was at present to be kept a profound secret. 

Notwithstanding some worldly wisdom, Daisy could 
believe that such secrets divided amongst half-a-dozen 
people, would not become the property of half-a-hundred. 

In mood like his, a man requires no companion but his 
own thoughts. We will rather accompany Soldier Bill, as 
he picks his way into Belgravia, stepping daintily over the 
muddy crossings, cursing the water-carts, and trying to 


AFTEBNOON TEA 


263 


preserve the polish of his boots, up to Mrs. Lushington’s 
door. 

Yet into those shining hoots his heart seemed almost 
sinking, when he marked a long line of carriages in the 
streets, a crowd of footmen on the steps and pavement. 
No man alive had better nerve than Bill, to ride, or fight, 
or swim, or face any physical danger; hut his hands 
turned cold, and his face hot, when about to confront 
strange ladies, either singly or in masses; and for him, 
the rustling of muslin was as the shaking of a standard to 
the inexperienced charger, a signal of unknown danger, a 
flutter of terror and dismay. 

Nevertheless, he mastered his weakness, following his 
own name resolutely up-stairs, in a white heat, no doubt, 
yet supported by the calmness of despair. Fortunately, 
he found his hostess at her drawing-room door. The 
favourable greeting she accorded him would have re-assured 
the most diffident of men. 

“ You’re a good boy,” she whispered, with a squeeze of 
his hand. “ I was almost afraid you wouldn’t come. 
Stay near the door, while I do the civil to the arch-duchess. 
I’ll be back directly. I’ve got something very particular to 
ask you.” 

So, while Mrs. Lushington did homage (in French) to 
the arch-duchess, who was old, fat, good-humoured, and 
very sleepy. Bill took up a position from which he could 
pass the inmates of the apartment in review. Observing 
his welcome by their hostess, and knowing tvho he icas. 


264 


SAT AN ELL A 


two or three magnificent ladies thought it not derogatory 
to afford him a gracious bow; and as they forbore to 
engage him in discourse, a visitation of which Bill had 
fearful misgivings, he soon felt sufficiently at ease to 
inspect unconcernedly, and in detail, the several indi¬ 
viduals who constituted the crush. 

It was a regular London gathering, in the full-tide of the 
season, consisting of the hest-dressed, best-looking, and 
idlest people in town. There seemed an excess of ladies, 
as usual; hut who would complain of a summer market 
that it was over stocked with flowers ? While of the uglier 
sex, the specimens were cither very young or very mature. 
There was scarcely a man to be seen hetw^een thirty and 
forty, but a glut of young gentlemen, some too much and 
some too little at their 'ease, with a liberal sprinkling of 
ancient dandies, irreproachable in manners, and worthier 
members of society, we may be permitted to hope, than 
society believed. A few notabilities were thrown in, of 
course: the arch-duchess aforesaid; a missionary, who 
had been tortured by the Chinese, dark, sallow^ and of a 
physiognomy that went far to extenuate the cruelty of the 
Celestials; a lady who had spent two years at Thebes, 
and, perhaps for that reason, dressed almost as low as the 
Egyptian Sphinx; a statesman out of office; a celebrated 
preacher at issue with his bishop; a foreign minister; a 
London banker; and a man everybody knew, who wrote 
books nobody read. Besides these, there was the usual 
complement of ladies who gave, and ladies who went to. 


AFTERNOON TEA 


265 


balls; married women addicted to flirting; single ladies 
not averse to it; stout mammas in gorgeous apparel; tall 
girls with baby faces promising future beauty ; a powdered 
footman winding, like an eel, through the throng; Frank 
Lushington himself, looking at his watch to see how soon 
it would be over; and Pretty Bessie Gordon, fresh and 
smiling, superintending the tea. 

All this Bill took in, wondering. It seemed such a 
strange way of spending a bright summer’s afternoon, in 
weather that had come on purpose for cricket, boating, 
yachting, all sorts of out-of-door pursuits. Putting himself 
beside the question, for he felt as much on duty as if he 
had the belt on in a barrack-yard, it puzzled him to dis¬ 
cover the spell that brought all these people together, in a 
hot room, at six o’clock in the day. Was it sheer idleness, 
or the love of talking, or only the follow-my-leader instinct 
of pigs and sheep ? Catching sight of General St. Josephs 
and Miss Douglas conversing apart in a corner, he deter¬ 
mined that it must be a motive stronger than any of these, 
and looking down on her broad deep shoulders, marvelled 
how such motive might affect his next neighbour, a lady 
of sixty years, weighing some sixteen stone. 

It is fair to suppose, therefore, that Bill was as yet him¬ 
self untouched. His intimacy with Mrs. Lushington, while 
sharpening his wits and polishing his manners, served, no 
doubt, to dispel those illusions of romance that all young 
men are prone to cherish, more or less; and Soldier Bill, 
with his fresh cheeks and simple heart, believed he was 


266 


8ATANELLA 


becoming a thorough philosopher, an experienced man-of- 
the-world, rating human weaknesses at their real value, 
and walking about the battle of life sheathed in armour-of- 
proof. Honest Bill! How little he dreamt that his 
immunity was only a question of time. The hour had not 
yet come—nor the woman. 

Far different was St. Josephs. If ever man exulted in 
bondage and seemed proud to rattle his chains, that man 
was the captive General. He never missed an opportunity 
of attending his conqueror : riding in the Park—‘^walking 
the Zoo ”—waiting about at balls, drums, crush-rooms, and 
play-houses,—he never left her side. 

Miss Douglas, loathing her own ingratitude, was weary 
of her life. Even Bill could not help remarking the pale 
cheeks, the heavy eyesy the dull lassitude of gait and 
bearing, that denoted the feverish unrest of one who is sick 
at heart. 

He trod on a chaperone’s skirt, and omitted to beg 
pardon; he stumbled against. his uncle, the bishop, and 
forgot to ask after his aunt. So taken up was he with the 
faded looks of Miss Douglas, that he neither remembered 
where he was, nor why he came, and only recovered con¬ 
sciousness with the rustle of Mrs. Lushington’s dress and 
her pleasant voice in his ear. 

“Giveme your arm,” said she, pushing on through her 
guests, with many winning smiles, “and take me into the 
little room for some tea.” 

Though a short distance, it was a long passage. She 


AFTEBNOON TEA 


267 


had something pleasant to say to everybody, as she 
threaded the crowd ; but it could he no difficult task for so 
experienced a campaigner, on her own ground, to take up 
any position she required. And Bill found himself 
established at last by her side, in a corner, where they 
were neither overlooked nor overheard. 

Now I want to know if it’s true ? ” said she, dashing 
into the subject at once. “ You can tell, if anybody can, 
and I’m sure you have no secrets from me” 

“If what's true?’’ asked Bill, gulping tea that made 
him hotter than ever. 

“Don’t he stupid!” was her reply. “Why, about 
Daisy of course. Is he going to marry that Irish girl ? I 
want to find out at once.” 

“Well, it’s no use denying it,” stammered Bill, some¬ 
what unwillingly. “ But it’s a dead secret, Mrs. Lush- 
ington, and of course it goes no farther.” 

“ Oh, of course I ” she repeated. “ Don’t you know how 
safe I am? But you’re quite sure of it? You have it 
from himself? ” 

“ I’ve got to he his best man,” returned Bill, by no 
means triumphantly. “ You’ll coach me up a little, 
w'on’t you, before the day? I haven’t an idea what to 
do.” 

She laughed merrily. 

“ Make love to the bridesmaids, of course,” she answered. 
“ Irish, no doubt, every one of them. I’m not quite sure I 
shall give you leave.” 


268 


SATANELLA 


“ I can’t get out of it! ” exclaimed Bill. “ He’s such a 
‘ pal,’ you know, and a brother-officer, and all.” 

She was amused at his simplicity. 

“I don’t want you to get out of it,” she answered, still 
laughing. “ I can’t tell you what sort of a best man you’ll 
make, but you’re not half a bad boy. You deserve some¬ 
thing for coming to-day. Dine with us to-morrow—nobody 
but the Gordon girls and a stray man. I must go and see 
the great lady off. That’s the worst of royalty. Good¬ 
bye,” and she sailed away, leaving Bill somewhat discon¬ 
certed by misgivings that he had been guilty of a breach of 
trust. 

The party was thinning visibly upstairs, while people 
transferred themselves with one accord to the hall and 
staircase, many appearing to consider this the pleasantest 
part of the entertainment. Mrs. Lushington had scarcely 
yet found time to speak three words to Blanche Douglas, 
but she caught her dear friend now, on the eve of departure, 
and held her fast. The General had gone to look for his 
ladye-love’s carriage. They were alone in Mr. Lushington’s 
snuggery, converted (though not innocent of tobacco-smoke) 
into a cloak-room for the occasion. 

‘‘ So good of you to come, dear Blanche, and to bring 
/iim,” (with a meaning smile). I waited to pounce on 
you here, I’ve got such a piece of news for you ! ” 

Miss Douglas looked as if nothing above, upon, or under 
the earth could afford her the slightest interest, but she 
was obliged to profess a polite curiosity. 


AFTERNOON TEA 


269 


“ Who do you think is going to be married ? Imme¬ 
diately ! next week, I believe. Who but our friend 
Daisy! ” 

The shot told. Though Miss Douglas received it with 
the self-command of a practised duellist, so keen an 
observer as her friend did not fail to mark a quiver of 
the eye-lids, a tightening of the lips, and a grey hue 
creeping gradually over the whole face. 

“Our fickle friend Daisy, of all people in the world! ” 
continued Mrs. Lushington. “It only shows how we poor 
women can be deceived. I sometimes fancied he admired 
mCf and I never doubted but he cared for you, whereas he 
has gone and fallen a victim to that wild Irish girl of Lady 
Mary Macormac’s—the pretty one—that was such a friend 
of yours.” 

“ I always thought he admired her,” answered Miss 
Douglas in a very feeble voice. “I ought to write and 
wish Norah joy. Are you quite sure it’s true ? ” 

“ Quite I ” was the reply. “ My authority is his own 
best man.” 

Fortunately the General appeared at this juncture, with 
tidings of the carriage, while through a vista of footmen 
might be seen at the open door a brougham-horse on his 
hind legs, impatient of delay. 

“ Good-bye, dear Blanche ! You look so tired. I hope 
you haven’t done too much.” 

“Good-bye, dear Clara! I’ve had such a pleasant 
afternoon.” 


270 


SATANELLA 


Putting her into the carriage, the General’s kind heart 
melted within him. She looked so pale and worn. She 
clung so confidingly, so dejectedly to his arm. She pressed 
his hand so affectionately when he bade her good-bye, and 
seemed so loth to let it go that, but for the eyes of all 
England, which every man believes are fixed on himself 
alone, he would have sprung in too, and driven oiff with her 
then and there. 

But he consoled himself with the certainty of seeing her 
next day. That comfort accompanied him to his bachelor 
lodgings, where he dressed, and lasted all through a regi¬ 
mental dinner at the London Tavern. 

While a distinguished leader proposed his health, 
alluding in flattering terms to the services he had 
rendered, and the dangers he had faced. General St. 
Josephs was thinking far less of his short soldier-like 
reply than of the pale face and the dark eyes that would 
so surely greet him on the morrow; of the future about 
to open before him at last, that should make amends for a 
life of war and turmoil, with its gentle solace of love, and 
confidence, and repose. 


CHAPTER XXVII 

A HARD MORSEL 

Like the feasts of Apicius, that dinner at the London 
Tavern was protracted to an unconscionable length. Its 
dishes were rich, various, and indigestible, nothing being 
served au naturel and without “garnish” but the brave 
simplicity of the guests. 

“ Wines too there were, that would have slain young Ammon,” 

and old comrades seldom part under such conditions without 
the consumption of much tobacco in the small hours. 
Nevertheless, St. Josephs rose next morning fresh and 
hopeful as a boy. He ordered his horse for an early 
canter in the Park, and shared the Row with divers 
young ladies of tender years but dauntless com’age, who 
crammed their ponies along at a pace that caused manes, 
and tails, and golden hair to float horizontal on the breeze, 
defiant even of that mounted inspector, whose heart though 
professionally intolerant of “ furious riding,” softened to a 

271 


272 


SATANELLA 


pigmy with snub nose and rosy cheeks, on a tiny quadruped 
as round, as fat, and as saucy-looking as itself. 

St. Josephs felt in charity with all mankind, and 
returned to breakfast so light of heart that he ought to 
have known, under the invariable law of compensation, 
some great misfortune was in store. 

He had little appetite; happiness, like sorrow, when 
excessive, never wants to eat; but he dressed himself 
again with the utmost care, and after exhausting every 
expedient to while away the dragging hours, started at 
half-past eleven for the abode of his ladye-love. 

Do what he would, it was scarcely twelve when he 
arrived at her door, where his summons remained so long 
unanswered, that he had leisure to speculate on the pos¬ 
sibility of Miss Douglas being indisposed and not yet 
awake. So he rang next time stealthily, and, as it were, 
under protest, but in vain. 

The General then applied himself to the area bell. 
‘^They’ll come directly, now,” he argued; ^‘they’ll think 
it’s the beer! ” And sure enough the street-door was 
quickly unfastened, with more turning of keys, clanking 
of chains, and withdrawal of bolts than is usual during 
the middle of the season, in the middle of the day. 

A very grimy old woman met him on the threshold, and 
peering suspiciously out of her keen, deep-set eyes, de¬ 
manded his business in a hoarse voice, suggestive of 
gin. 

“ Miss Douglas b’aint here,” was the startling answer to 


A HAJiD M0B8EL 


273 


his inquiries. “ She be gone away for good. Hoff this 
morning, I shouldn’t wonder, afore you was out of bed.” 

‘‘ Gone ! ” he gasped. This morning ! Did she leave 
no message? ” 

“ None that I knows of. The servants didn’t say nothink 
about it; leastways, not to vie” 

‘‘ But she’s coming back ? ” 

“ Not likely ! The maid suppose as they was a-going 
for good and all. It’s no business of mine. I’m not Miss 
Douglas’s servant. I’m a-taking care of the ’ouse for the 
landlord, I am. It’s time I was a-tidying of it up now.” 

With this broad hint, she proceeded to shut the door in 
his face, when the General, recovering his presence of mind, 
made use of the only argument his experience had taught 
him was universal and conclusive. 

Her frown relaxed with the touch of money on her palm. 
“ You’re a gentleman, you are,” she observed approvingly. 
“Won’t ye step in, sir? It’s bad talking with the door 
in your ’and.” 

He complied, and sat down on one of the bare hall-chairs, 
feeling as he had felt once before, when badly hit, in the 
Punjaub. 

She went on with her dusting, talking all the time. 
“You see they sent round for me first thing in the 
morning; and I says to Mrs. Jones—that’s my landlady, 
sir,”—(dropping a curtsey), “ ‘Mrs. Jones,’ says I, ‘what¬ 
ever can they be up to,’ says I, ‘making such an. early 
flitting ? ’ says I—” 


18 


274 


8ATANELLA 


“But do you mean they’ve left no letter?” he inter¬ 
rupted, starting from his seat; “no directions—no address? 
Are all the servants gone ? Has Miss Douglas taken much 
luggage with her ? Did she go away in a cab ? Oh, 
woman ! woman ! tell me all j^ou know ! It’s a matter 
of life and death ! ” 

She looked at him askance, privately opining that, early 
as it was, the gentleman had been drinking, and sym¬ 
pathising with him none the less for that impression. 

“They’re off,” said she stubbornly; “and they’ve took 
everythink along with them—bags and boxes, and what 
not. There was a man round after the keys—not half an 
hour gone. I should say as they wasn’t coming back, none 
of ’em, no more.” 

This redundancy of negatives forcibly expressed her 
hopelessness of their return, and the G-eneral’s good 
sense told him it was time wasted to cross-question 
his informant any further. Summoning his energies, 
he reflected that the post-ofiice would be the best place 
whereat to prosecute inquiries, so he bade the old woman 
farewell, with all the fortitude he could muster, leaving her 
much impressed by his manners, bearing, and profuse 
liberality. 

At the post-oflice, however (an Italian warehouse round 
the corner), they knew nothing. The General, at his wits’ 
end, bethought him of those livery-stables where Satanella 
kept her namesake, the redoubtable black mare. 

Here his plight excited the utmost interest and com* 


A HABD MOBSEL 


275 


iniseration. Certainly. The General should have all 
the assistance in their power. Of course, the lady had 
forgotten to leave her address, no doubt. Ladies was 
careless, sometimes, in such matters. A beautiful ’orse- 
woman,” the livery-stable keeper understood, “ an’ kep’ 
two remarkably clever ones for her own riding. Had an 
idea they went away this very morning. Might be 
mistaken. John could tell. John was the head-ostler. 
It was John’s business to know.” So a bell rang, and 
John, in a long-sleeved waistcoat, sleeking a close-cropped 
head, appeared forthwith. 

“Black mare and chestnut ’oss,” said John decidedly. 
“ Gone this morning; groom took with him saddles, 
clothing, and everything. Paid up to the end of their 
week. Looked like travelling—had their knee-caps on. 
Groom a close chap; wouldn’t say where. Wish he 
(John) could find out. Left a setting-muzzle behind, 
and would like to send it after him.” 

There seemed nothing to be done here, and the General 
was fain to retrace his steps, hurt, anxious, angry, and more 
puzzled when he reached home than he had ever been in 
his life. 

For an hour or two, the whole thing seemed so impossible, 
and the absurdity of the situation struck him as so ridicu¬ 
lous, that he sat idly in his chair to wait for tidings. In 
this nineteenth century, he told himself, people could not 
disappear from the surface of society, and leave no sign. 
Bather, like the sea-bird diving in the waves, if they go 


276 


SATANELLA 


down in one place, they must come up in another. There 
were no kidnappings now, no sendings off to the Planta¬ 
tions, no forcible abductions of ladies young or old. Then 
his heart turned sick, and his blood ran cold, while he 
recalled more than one instance in his own experience, 
where individuals had suddenly vanished from their homes 
and never been heard of again. 

Stung to action by such thoughts, he collected his ideas 
to organise a comprehensive system of pursuit, that should 
embrace enquiries at all the railway-stations, cab-stands, 
and turnpikes in and about the metropolis, with the assis¬ 
tance of Scotland Yard in the background. Then he 
remembered how an old brother-officer had told him, 
only the other day, of a similar search made by himself, 
and attended with success. So he resolved to consult that 
comrade without delay. It was now two o’clock. He 
would find him eating luncheon at his club. In five minutes, 
the General was in a hansom cab, and in less than ten, 
leaped out on the steps of that military resort. 

Had he gone there an hour ago, it would have spared him 
a good deal of mental agitation, though perhaps any amount 
of anxiety would have been preferable to the dull, sickening 
resignation which succeeded a blow that could no longer be 
modified, parried, nor escaped. In after-times, the General 
looked back to those ten minutes in the hansom cab as 
the close of an era in his life. Henceforth, every object in 
nature seemed to have lost something of its colouring, and 
the sun never shone so bright again. 


A HABD MOBSEL 


Til 


In the hall an obsequious porter handed him a letter. He 
staggered when he recognised the familiar hand-writing on 
the envelope, and drew his breath hard for the effort before 
he tore it open. 

There were several pages, some of them crossed. He 
retired to the strangers’-room, and sat down to peruse the 
death-warrant of his happiness. 

‘‘You will forgive me,” it began, “because you are the 
kindest, the best, the most generous of men; but I should 
never forgive myself the blow I feel I am now inflicting, 
were it not that I regard your pride, your character, your 
high sense of honour, before yom- happiness. General, I 
am unfit to be your wife ; not because my antecedents are 
somewhat obscure —you know my history, and that I have 
no reason to be ashamed of it; not because I undervalue 
the happiness of so high and enviable a lot—any woman, 
as I have told you more than once, would be proud of your 
choice; but because you deserve, and could so well appre¬ 
ciate, the unalloyed affection, the utter devotion, that are 
not mine to give. Your wife should have no thought but 
for you, no hopes independent of you, no memories in 
which you do not form a part. She should be wrapped up in 
your existence, identified with you, body and soul. All this 
I am not. I never have been—I never can be now. Had 
I entertained a lower opinion of your merits, admired and 
cared for you less, I would have kept my promise faithfully, 
and we might have jogged on like many another couple, 
comfortably enough. But you ought to win more than mere 


278 


SATANELLA 


comfort in married life. You merit, and would expect, 
happiness. How could I bear to see my hero disappointed? 
For you are my hero—my heau-ideal of a gentleman—and 
my standard is a very high one, or you and I had never 
been so unhappy as I firmly believe we both are at this 
moment. It is in vain to regret, and murmur, and speculate 
on what might have been, if everything, including one’s own 
identity, were different. There is but one line to take now, 
even at the eleventh hour. Some day you will acknowledge 
that I was right. We must never meet again. I have 
taken such precautions as can baffle, I do believe, even your 
energy and resource. You have often said nobody was so 
determined when I had made up my mind. I am resolved 
that you shall never find out what has become of me; and 
I entreat you—I adjure you—if you love me—nay, as you 
love me—not to try ! So now, farewell—a long farewell, 
that it pains me sore to say. I shall never forget you. In 
all my conflict of feelings, in all my self-reproach and 
bitter sorrow, when I think of your pain, I cannot bring 
myself to wish we had never met. I am proud of your 
notice and your regard—^proud to remain under obligations 
to you—proud to have loved you so far as my false, wicked 
nature had the power. Even now I can say, though you 
put me out of your heart, do not let me pass entirely from 
your memory. Think sometimes, and not unkindly, of your 
wilful, wayward— 


So it was all over. 


“ Blanche.” 


A HABB MOBSEL 


279 


“It’s a good letter,” murmured the General; “but I 
prefer the one Julia wrote to Juan.” Then he read it 
through again, and found, as is usually the case, that the 
second perusal reversed his impression of the first. Did 
she really mean he was to abstain from all attempt to 
follow her ? He examined the envelope ; it bore the stamp 
of the General Post Office; the contents certainly afforded 
him no clue, yet, judging by analogy, he argued that no 
woman would lay such stress on the precautions she had 
taken if she did not wish their efficacy to he proved. 
When he found, however, that nothing short of police- 
detectives and newspaper advertisements would avail him, 
he took a juster view of her intentions, and in the chivalry 
of his nature resolved that under this great affliction, as in 
every other condition of their acquaintance, he would yield 
implicitly to her wish. 

So he went back into the world, grave, kindly, and 
courteous as before. There were a few more grey hairs 
in his whiskers, and he avoided ladies’ society altogether; 
otherwise, to the unobservant eye, he was little altered; 
but a dear old friend whom he had nursed through cholera 
at Varna, and dragged from under a dead horse at Lucknow, 
took him into a hay-window of the club-library, and thus 
addressed him— 

“My good fellow, you’re looking shamefully seedy. 
Idleness never suited you. Nothing like work to keep 
old horses sound. Why don’t you apply for employ¬ 
ment? There’s always something to do in the East.” 


CHAPTER XXVIII 

SEEKING REST AND FINDING NONE ” 

But great nations do not plunge recklessly into war, nor 
even do mountain tribes rise suddenly in rebellion because 
an elderly gentleman is suffering like some sentimental 
scbool-girl from a disappointment of the heart. General 
St. Josephs extorted, indeed, from a great personage the 
promise that if anything turned up he would not be for¬ 
gotten, and was fain to content himself, for the time, with 
a pledge in which he knew he could place implicit trust. 
So the weary, hot months dragged on, and he remained in 
London, solitary, silent, pre-occupied, wandering about the 
scenes of his former happiness, like a ghost. He went 
yachting, indeed, with one friend, and agreed on a 
pedestrian excursion through Switzerland with another; 
but the sad sea waves ” were too sad for him to endure, 
and the energy that should have taken him over a moun¬ 
tain, or up a glacier, seemed to fail with the purchase of 
a knapsack and the perusal of a foreign Bradshaw, so the 
walking tour was abandoned, and the friend rather con¬ 
gratulated himself on escaping such a mournful companion, 
280 


SEEKING BEST AND FINDING NONE” 281 


When autumn came round with its many temptations 
to Scotland, where the muir-fowl were crowing about their 
heathery knolls, and the red-deer sunning their fat backs 
on the leeward side of the corrie, he did indeed avail 
himself of certain invitations to the hospitable North; and 
the General, who could level rifle or fowling-piece, breast 
a hill, or plunge through a moss with his juniors by twenty 
years, strove hard in fatigue of body to earn re];)ose for the 
mind. But he did not stay long ; the gi’and, grave beauty 
of those silent hills oppressed and tortured him. He 
pitied the wild old cock, flapping its life out on its own 
purple heather, fifty yards ofi*, mowed down by his deadly 
barrel, even as it rose. When he had stalked the “ muckle 
red hart ” with antlered front of royalty, and three inches 
of fat on those portly sides, up the burn, and under the 
waterfall, and through the huge grey boulders of eternal 
rock, to sight the noble beast fairly from a leeward ambush, 
and bring it down, pierced through the heart with a long 
and “ kittle ” shot, his triumph was all merged in sorrow 
for the dead monarch lying so calm and stately in the quiet 
glen, not perhaps without a something of envy, for a 
creature thus insensible, and at rest for evermore. 

The foresters wondered to see him in no way triumphant, 
and when they heard next morning he was gone, shook 
their heads, opining that “ It was a peety! She was a 
pratty shot, and a fery tight shentlemans on a hill.” 

It was work the General required, not amusement; so 
he journeyed sadly back, to await in London the command 


282 


SATANELLA 


he hoped would ere long recall him to a profession he had 
always loved, that seemed now to offer the sympathy and 
solace of a home. 

Sometimes, hut this only in moments of which he was 
ashamed, he would speculate on the possibility of meeting 
Miss Douglas by accident in the great city, and it soothed 
him to fancy the explanations that would ensue. He 
never dreamed of their resuming their old footing; for the 
General’s forbearance hitherto had sprung from the 
strength, not the weakness of his character, and the same 
stubborn gallantry that held his position was available to 
cover his defeat; but it would be a keen pleasure, he 
thought, though a sad one, to look in her face just once 
more. After that he might turn contentedly Eastward, 
go back into harness, and never come to England 
again. 

In the meantime, the days that dragged so wearily with 
St. Josephs, danced like waves in the sunshine through 
many of those other lives with which he had been associated 
in his late history. Amongst all gregarious animals, it is 
the custom for a sick or wounded beast to withdraw from 
the herd, who in no way concern themselves about its fate, 
but continue their browsings, baskings, croppings, water¬ 
ings, and friskings, with a well-bred resignation to 
another’s plight worthy of the human race. If the 
General’s friends and acquaintance asked each other what 
had become of him, and waited for an answer, they were 
satisfied with the conventional surmise— 


SEEKING BEST AND FINDING NONE 


283 


“ Gone to Scotland, I fancy. They tell me it’s a 
wonderful year for grouse ! ” 

Mrs. Lushington, yachting at Cowes, and remaining a 
good deal at anchor, because it was ‘‘blowing fresh out¬ 
side,” thought of him perhaps more than anybody else. 
Not that she felt the least remorseful for the break-up she 
believed to have originated solely in her own manoeuvres. 
She was persuaded that her information conveyed through 
the anonymous letter had aroused suspicions which, 
becoming certainties on inquiry, detached him from 
Satanella, and, completely mistaking his character, con¬ 
sidered it impossible, but that their dissolution of partner¬ 
ship originated with the gentleman. How the lady fared 
interested her but little, and in conversation with other 
dearest friends, she usually summed up the fate of this 
one by explaining— 

“It was impossible to keep poor Blanche straight. 
Always excitable, and unlike other people, you know. 
Latterly, I am afraid, more than flighty, my dear, and 
more than odd.” 

Besides, Mrs. Lushington, as usual, had a great deal of 
business on hand. For herself and her set Cowes was 
nothing in the world but London gone down to the sea. 
Shorter petticoats, and hats instead of bonnets, made the 
whole difference. There were the same attractions, the 
same interests, the same intrigues. Even the same bores 
went to and fro, and bored, as they breathed, more freely 
in the soft, Channel air. Altogether, it was fresher and 
quieter, but, if possible, stupider than Pall Mall. 


284 


8ATANELLA 


Nevertheless, Mrs. Lushington, being in her natural 
element, exercised her natural functions. She was hard 
at work, trying to mate Bessie Gordon, nothing loth, with 
a crafty widower, who seemed as shy of the bait as an old 
gudgeon under Kew Bridge. She had undertaken, in 
conspiracy with other frisky matrons, to spoil poor Kosie 
Barton’s game with young Wideacres, the catch of the 
season; and they liked each other so well that this job 
alone kept her in constant employment. She had picnics 
to organise, yachting parties to arrange, and Frank to 
keep in good humour; the latter no easy task, for Cowes 
bored him extremely, and, to use his own words, “ he 
wished the whole place at the devil! ” She felt also vexed 
and disappointed that the General had withdrawn himself 
so entirely from the sphere of her attractions, reflecting 
that she saw a great deal more of him before he was free. 
Added to her other troubles was the unpardonable defection 
of Soldier Bill. That volatile light dragoon had never 
been near her since Daisy’s marriage—a ceremony in 
which he took the most lively interest, comporting himself 
as ‘‘best man” with an unparalleled audacity, and a 
joyous flow of spirits, that possessed, for a gathering 
composed of Hibernians, the greatest attractions. People 
said, indeed, that Bill had shown himself not entirely 
unaffected by the charms of a lovely bridesmaid, the eldest 
of Lady Mary’s daughters ; and it was impossible to over¬ 
estimate the danger of his position under such suggestive 
circumstances as must arise from a wedding in the house. 


SEEKING BEST AND FINDING NONE'^ 285 


Then a grey hair or two had lately shown themselves 
in her abundant brown locks ; ■while of the people she 
chose to flirt with, some neglected her society for a cruise, 
others afforded her more of the excitement produced by 
rivaliy than she relished, none paid her the devoted 
attention she had learned to consider her due. Altogether, 
Mrs. Lushington began to find life less couleur de rose 
than she could wish, and to suspect the career she had 
adopted was not conducive to happiness, or even comfort. 
Many people make the same discovery when it is too late 
to abandon the groove in which they have elected to run. 

Daisy, in the meantime, true to his expressed intention 
of turning over a new leaf, found no reason to he dis¬ 
satisfied with his lot. You might search Ii’eland through, 
and it is saying a good deal, without finding a more joyous 
couple than Captain and Mrs. Walters. The looked-for 
promotion arrived at last, and the bridegroom had the 
satisfaction of seeing himself gazetted to a troop on the 
very morning that provided him with a wife. Old 
Macormac was pleased. Lady Mary was pleased, everybody 
was pleased. The Castle blazed ^vith light and revelry, 
the tenants drank, danced, and shouted. The boys ” 
burnt the mountain -with a score of bonfires, consuming 
whisky, and breaking each other’s heads to their own 
unbounded satisfaction. In short, to use the words of 
Peter Corrigan, the oldest solvent tenant on the estate, 
“ The masther’s wedding was a fool to’t! May I never 
see glory av’ it wasn’t betther divarsion than a wake! ” 


286 


^atanellA 


But Norah^s gentle heart, even in her own new-found 
happiness, had a thought for the beautiful and stately 
Englishwoman, whom, if she somewhat feared her as a 
rival, she yet loved dearly as a friend. 

“What’s gone with her, Daisy? ” she asked her young 
husband, before they had been married a fortnight. “ Sure 
she would never take up with the nice old gentleman, a 
general he was, that marked the race-cards for us at 
Punchestown. Oh, Daisy ! how I cried that night, because 
you didn’t win ! ” 

They were walking by the river-side, where they landed 
the big fish at an early period of their acquaintance, and 
Norah brought the gaff to bear in more ways than she 
suspected ; where they parted so hopelessly, when, because 
of his very desolation, the true and generous girl had 
consented to plight him her troth; and where they had 
hardly dared to hope they would meet again in such a glow 
of happiness as shone round them to-day. It was bright 
spring weather when they wished each other that sorrowful 
good-bye. Now, the dead leaves were falling thick and 
fast in the grey autumn gloom. Nevertheless, this was 
the real vernal season of joy and promise for both those 
loving hearts. 

“ What a goose you were to back me ! ” observed Daisy, 
with a pressure of the arm that clung so tight round his 
own. “ It served you right, and I hope cured you of 
betting once for all! ’’ 

“ That’s no answer to my question,” persisted Mrs. 


SEEKING BEST AND FINDING NONE 287 

Walters. “I’m asking you to tell me about my beautiful 
Blanche Douglas, and why wouldn’t the old General marry 
her if she’d have him.” 

“ That’s it, dear! ” replied her husband. “ She wouldn't 
have him ! She—she accepted him, I know, and then she 
threw him over.” 

“ What a shame! ” exclaimed Norah. “ Though, to be 
sure, he might have been her father.” Then a shadow 
passed over her fair young brow, and she added wistfully, 
“ Ah, Daisy 1 I’m thinking I know who she wanted all the 
time.” 

“ Meaning me ? ” said Daisy, with a frank, saucy smile, 
that brought the mirth back to her face, and the sunshine 
to her heart. 

“Meaning you, sir!” she repeated playfully. “But 
it’s very conceited of you to think it, and very wrong to let 
it out. It’s not so wonderful, after all,” she added, 
looking proudly in his handsome young face. “ I suppose 
I’m not the only girl that’s liked you, dear, by a many. I 
oughtn’t to expect it! ” 

“ The only one that’s landed the fish,” laughed Daisy, 
stopping in the most effectual manner a little sigh with 
which she was about to conclude her peroration. “ You’re 
mistaken about Miss Douglas, though,” he added, “I give 
you my word. She hadn’t your good taste, my dear, and 
didn’t see it! Look, Norah, there’s the very place I left 
Sullivan’s fishing-rod. He’ll never get it again, so it’s 
lucky I bought his little brown horse. I wonder who 


288 


SAT AN ELL A 


found it ? What a day that was! Norah, do you 
remember? ” 

“ Remember! ” 

So the conversation turned on that most interesting of 
topics—themselves, and did not revert to Satanella nor 
her doings. If Norah was satisfied, Daisy felt no wish to 
pursue the subject. However indiscreet concerning his 
successes, I think when a man has been refused by another 
lady, he says nothing about it to his wife. 


CHAPTER XXIX 

UNDIVIDED 

The late autumn was merging into early winter, that 
pleasantest of all seasons for those sportsmen who exult 
in the stride of a good horse, and the stirring music of the 
hound. Even in Pall Mall true lovers of the chase felt 
stealing over them the annual epidemic, which winter after 
winter rages with unabated virulence, incurable by any 
known remedy. A sufferer—it would be a misnomer to 
call him a patient —from this November malady was gaping 
at a print-shop window, near the bottom of St. James’s 
Street, wholly engrossed in the performances of a very 
bright bay horse, with a high-coloured rider, flying an 
impossible fence, surrounded by happy hunting-gi-ounds, 
where perspective seemed unknown. 

“ D’ye think he’ll get over, Bill ? ” said a familiar voice, 
that could only belong to Daisy Walters, who had stolen 
unperceived behind his friend. 

“ Not if the fool on his back can pull him into it,” 
19 289 


290 


SATANELLA 


answered the other indignantly. And these comrades, 
linking arms, turned eastward, in the direction of their 
club. 

“ How’s the Missis ? ” said Bill, whose boast it was that 
he never forgot his manners. 

Fit as a fiddle,” replied the happy husband. “ Had a 
long letter from Molly this morning. Sent her best love 
no, scratched that out, and desired to be kindly remembered 
to you” 

Molly, called after Lady Mary, was the eldest and, in 
Bill’s opinion, the handsomest daughter, so he changed 
the subject with rather a red face. 

“ About to-morrow now,” said Bill. “I’ve got Martin¬ 
gale to do my orderly. Are you game for a day with the 
stag?” 

“Will a duck swim!” was the answer. “ Norah is 
coming too. I shall mount her on Boneen j he s own 
brother to the little horse that beat our mare at Punches- 
town.” 

“Couldn’t do better in that country,” asserted his 
friend. “ He’ll carry her like a bird, if she’ll wake him 
up a bit, and it’s simply impossible to get him down. By 
Jove, Daisy, there’s St. Josephs going into the Club. How 
seedy he looks, and how old ! Hang me, if I won’t offer 
him a mount to-morrow. I wonder if he 11 come ? 

So this kind-hearted young sportsman, in whose opinion 
a day’s hunting was the panacea for all ills, mental or 
bodily, followed his senior into the morning-room, and 


UNDIVIDED 


291 


proffered his best horse, with the winning frankness of 
manner that his friends found it impossible to resist. 

“ He’s good enough to carry the Commander-in-Chief,” 
said Bill. “I’ve more than I can ride till I get my long 
leave. I should be so proud if you’d have a day on him; 
and if he makes a mistake, I’ll give him to you. There ! ” 

St. Josephs was now on the eve of departure for the 
employment he had solicited. While his outfit was pre¬ 
paring, the time hung heavy on his hands, and he had 
done so many kindnesses by this young subaltern that he 
felt it would be only graceful and friendly to accept a favour 
in return, so he assented willingly, and Bill’s face glowed 
with pleasure. 

“Don’t be late,’’said he. “Nine o’clock train from 
Euston. Mind you get into the drop-carriage, or they’ll 
take you on to the Shires. I’ll join you at Willesden. 
And if we don’t have a real clinker. I’ll make a vow never 
to go hunting again.” 

Then he departed on certain errands of his own con¬ 
nected with the pugilistic art, and the General reflected 
sadly how it was a quarter of a century since he used to 
feel as keen as that reckless light-hearted boy. 

He waited on high authorities at the War-office, dined 
with the field-marshal, and, through a restless night, 
dreamed of Satanella, for the first time since her dis¬ 
appearance. 

A foggy November morning, and a lame horse in the cab 
that took him to Euston Station did not serve to raise his 


292 


SATANELLA 


spirits. But for Bill’s anticipations of ‘‘ a clinker,” and 
the disappointment he knew it would cause that enthusiast, 
the General might have turned back to spend one more day 
in vain brooding and regret. Arrived on the platform, how¬ 
ever, he got into a large saloon-carriage, according to direc¬ 
tions, and found himself at once in the midst of so cheerful 
a party that he felt it impossible to resist the fun and 
merriment of the hour. 

St. Josephs was too well known in general society not to 
find acquaintances even here, though he was hardly pre¬ 
pared to meet representatives of so many pursuits and 
professions, booted and spurred for the chase, and judging 
by the ceaseless banter they interchanged, 

“ All determined to ride, each resolved to be first.” 

Soldiers, sailors, diplomatists, bankers, lawyers, artists, 
authors, men of pleasure, and men of business, holding 
daily papers they never looked at, were all talking across 
each other, and laughing incessantly, while enthroned at 
one end of the carriage sat the best sportsman and most 
popular member of the assemblage, whose opinions, like 
his horses, carried great weight, and were of as unflinching 
a nature as his riding, so that he was esteemed a sort of 
president in jack-boots. Opposite him was placed pretty 
Irish Norah, now Mrs. Walters, intensely excited by her 
first appearance at what she called “ an English hunt,” 
while she imparted to Daisy, in a mellower brogue than 
usual, very original ideas on things in general, and espe- 


VNLIVIDED 


cially on the country through which they were now flying 
at the rate of forty miles an hour. 

It’s like a garden where it’s in tillage, and a croquet- 
lawn where it’s in pasture,” said Norah, after a gracious 
recognition of the General, and cordial greeting to Bill, 
who was bundled in at "VVillesden, panting, with his spurs 
in his hand. Ah ! now, Daisy, it’s little of the whip poor 
Boneen will be wanting for easy leaps like them.” 

‘‘Wait till you get into the vale,” said Daisy; “and 
whatever you do let his head alone. Follow me close, and 
if I’m down, ride over me. It’s the custom of the country.” 

The General smiled. 

“ I haven’t been there for twenty years,” said ho ; “ but 
I can remember in my time we were not very particular. I 
shall follow my old friend,” he added, nodding to the presi¬ 
dent, whose nether garments were of the strongest and 
most workmanlike materials; “ when a man has no regular 
hunting things, he wants a leader to turn the thorns, and 
from all I hear, if I can only stick to mine, I shall be in a 
very good place.” 

Everybody agreed to this, scanning the speaker with 
approving glances, the while, St. Josephs, though wearing 
trousers and a common morning coat, had something in his 
appearance that denoted the practised horseman; and when 
he talked of “ twenty years ago,” his listeners gave him 
credit for those successes which in all times, are attributed 
to the men of the past. 

“ Mrs. Walters must be a little careful at the doubles,” 


294 


SATANELLA 


hazarded a quiet good-looking man who had not yet spoken, 
hut whose natm-e it was to he exceedingly courteous, where 
ladies were concerned. “ A wise horse that knows its 
rider is everything in the vale.” 

Norah looked into the speaker’s dark eyes with a quaint 
smile. 

Ah, then ! if the horse wasn’t wiser than the rider,” 
said she, ‘‘ it’s not many leaps any of us would take without 
a fall! ” and in the laughter provoked hy this incontestable 
assertion, a slight jerk announced that their carriage was 
detached from the train, and they had arrived. 

Though it requires a long time to settle a lady in the 
saddle for hunting, even when in the regular swing of 
twice or thrice a week, and though Norah was about to 
enjoy her first gallop of the season in a new habit, on a new 
horse, she and Daisy had ample leisure for a sober ride to 
the place of meeting, arriving cool and calm, pleased with 
the weather, the scenery, the company, and, above all, 
delighted with Boneen. 

They were accompanied hy the General on a first-class 
hunter belonging to Bill, and soon overtaken by its owner, 
who, having lingered behind to jump a fom*-year-old over a 
tempting stile for educational purposes, had crushed a new 
hat, besides daubing his coat in the process. 

“ Down already ? ” said St. Josephs. “ What happened 
to him ? What did he do ? ” 

Rapped very hard,” answered Bill; found his 
friend at home, and went in without waiting to he 


UNDIVIDED 


295 


announced; ” but he patted the young pupil on its neck, 
and promised to teach it the trade before Christmas, never¬ 
theless. Certainly, if practice makes perfect, no man 
should have possessed a stud of cleverer fencers than 
Soldier Bill. 

And now, as she reached the summit of a grassy ascent, 
there broke on Norah’s vision so extensive and beautiful a 
landscape as elicited an exclamation of amazement and 
delight. 

Mile after mile, to the dim grey horizon, stretched a 
sweep of smooth wide pastures, intersected by massive 
hedges, not yet bare of their summer luxuriance, dotted by 
lofty standard trees, rich in the gaudy hues of autumn, lit 
up by flashes of a winding stream that gleamed here and 
there under the willows with which its banks were fringed. 
Enclosures varying from fifty to a hundred acres, gave 
promise of as much galloping as the heart of man, or even 
woman, could desire. And scanning those fences the Irish 
lady admitted to herself, though not to her companions, 
that from a distance they looked as formidable obstacles as 
any she had confronted in Kildare. 

“It’s beautiful,” said Norah. “It’s made on purpose 
for a hunt. Look, Daisy, there’s the hounds! Oh, the 
darlings ! And little Boneen, he sees them, too ! ” 

Gathered round their huntsman, a wiry, sporting-looking 
man on a thorough-bred bay horse, they were moving into 
sight from behind a hay-stack that stood in a corner of the 
neighbouring field. Rich in colour, beautiful in shape, and 


296 


SATANELLA 


with a family likeness pervading the lot as if they were all 
one litter, a fox-hunter would have grudged them for the 
game they were about to pursue—a noble red deer, in so far 
tame, that he was fed in the paddock, and brought to a 
condition that could tax the speed and endurance even of 
this famous pack. The animal had already arrived in a 
large van on wheels, drawn by a pair of horses, and sur¬ 
rounded by a levee of gaping rustics, whose eagerness and 
love for the sport reminded Norah of her countrymen on 
the other side of the Channel. 

‘‘Will they let him out here, Daisy?” said she, in 
accents of trembling excitement. “I wish they’d begin. 
What are we waiting for ? ” 

“ Your patience will not be tried much longer,” said the 
General, lighting a cigar. “ Here comes the master, at a 
pace as if the mare that landed him the Thousand Guineas, 
the Oaks, and the St. Leger, had been made a cover-hack 
for the occasion ! ” 

“With the Derby-winner of the same year for second 
horse! ” added her husband. “ If you want a pilot, Norah, 
you couldn’t do better than stick to liwif heavy as he is! ” 

“I mean to follow you^ sir,” was the rejoinder. “If 
you don’t mind, Daisy, maybe I’ll be before ye.” 

Even while she spoke a stir throughout the whole caval¬ 
cade, and a smothered shout from the foot-people, 
announced that the deer had been enlarged. 

With a wild leap in the air, as though rejoicing in its 
recovered liberty, the animal started off at speed, but in the 


UNDIVIDED 


297 


least favourable direction it could have taken, heading to¬ 
wards the ascent on the side of which the horsemen and a 
few carriages were drawn up. Then slackened its pace to 
a jerking, springing trot—paused—changed its mind— 
lowered its head—dashed wildly down the hill to disappear 
through a high bull-finch, and after a few seconds came 
again into view, travelling swift and straight across the 
vale. 

The General smoked quietly, but his eye brightened, and 
he seemed ten years younger for the sight. 

It’s all right now,” said he; ‘‘the sooner they lay 
them on the better.” 

Soldier Bill, drawing his girths, looked up with a beam¬ 
ing smile. 

“ They say there’s a lady, a mysterious unknown, in a 
thick veil, who beats everybody with these hounds,” he 
observed. “ I wonder why she’s not out to-day.” 

“ I think she is,' replied Daisy, shooting a mischievous 
glance at his wife. “ I fancied I caught the flutter of a 
habit just now behind the hay-stack. I suppose she’s deter¬ 
mined to get a good start and cut Norah down ! ” 

Ere the latter could reply, the hounds dashed across the 
line of the deer. Throwing the tongues in full musical 
notes, they spread like a fan, with noses in the air; then, 
stooping to the scent, converged, in one melodious crash 
and chorus, ere they took to running with a grim, silent 
determination that denoted the extremity of pace. Every 
man set his horse going at speed. Nearly a dozen selected 


298 


SATANELLA 


their places in the first fence—a formidable bull-finch. The 
rest, turning rather away from the hounds, thundered wildly 
down to an open gate. 

Amongst those who meant riding straight, it is needless 
to say, were Mrs. Walters and her three cavaliers. These 
landed in the second field almost together. Daisy, closely 
pursued by his wife, stealing through a weak place under a 
tree, the General sailing fairly over all, and Bill, unable to 
resist the temptation of a gap, made up with four strong 
rails, getting to the right side with a scramble, that wanted 
very little of a nasty fall. 

The hounds were already a quarter of a mile ahead with 
nobody near them but a lady on a black hunter, who was 
well alongside, going, to all appearance, perfectly at her 
ease; while her groom, on a chestnut horse, left hopelessly 
behind, rode in the wake of the General, and wished he 
was at home. 

Daisy, whose steeple-chasing experience had taught him 
never to lose his head, was the only one of our part^ who 
did not feel a little bewildered by the pace. Taking in 
everything at a glance, he observed the black hunter in 
front sail easily over a fence that few horses would have 
looked at. There was no mistaking the style and form of 
the animal. ‘‘Of course it is !” he muttered. “Satanella, 
by all that’s inexplicable! We shall not catch them at 
this pace, however ! ” Then, pulling his horse to let his 
wife come up, he shouted in her ear, “ Norah, that’s Miss 
Douglas ! ” 


UNDIVIDED 


299 


Whether she heard him or not, the only answer Mrs. 
Walters vouchsafed was to lean hack in her saddle and give 
Boneen a refresher with the whip. 

Unlike a fox, whose reasons are logical and well-con¬ 
sidered, a deer will sometimes turn at right angles for no 
conceivable cause, pursuing the new line with as much 
speed and decision as the old. 

In the present instance the animal, after leaping a high 
thorn fence with two ditches, broke short off in a lateral 
direction, under the very shadow of the hedge it had just 
cleared, and, at the pace they were going, the hounds, as a 
natural consequence, over-ran the scent. 

Miss Douglas pulled up her horse, and did not interfere. 
There being, fortunately, no one to assist them, they flung 
themselves beautifully, swinging hack to the line and 
taking it up again with scarcely the loss of a minute. The 
President, two fields off, struggling hard to get nearer, was 
perhaps the only man out who sufficiently appreciated their 
steadiness. Like Coleridge’s Ancient Mariner, “ he 
blessed them unawares.” Bill, I fear, did the other thing, 
for the fence was so high he never saw them tmm, and 
jumped well into their midst, happily without doing any 
damage. 

This slight delay, however, had the effect of bringing 
Daisy, his wife. Soldier Bill, and the General into the 
same field with Miss Douglas. She heard the footfall 
of their horses, looked round, and set the black mare going 
faster than before. If, as indeed seemed probable, she was 


soo 


SAT AN ELL A 


resolved not to be overtaken, the pack, streaming away at 
speed once more, served her purpose admirable. No horse 
alive could catch them; and Satanella herself seemed doing 
her best to keep on tolerable terms at that terrific pace. 
The majority of the field had already been hopelessly 
distanced. The General found even the superior animal he 
rode fail somewhat in the deep-holding meadows. Bill was 
in difficulties, although he had religiously adhered to the 
shortest way. Even Daisy began to wish for a pull, and 
only little Boneen, quite thorough-bred and as good as 
he was sluggish, seemed to keep galloping on, strong and 
full of running as at the start. For more than a mile our 
friends proceeded with but a slight alteration in their rela¬ 
tive positions—Satanella, perhaps, gradually leaving her 
followers, and the hounds drawing away from all five. In 
this order two or three flying fences were negotiated, and a 
fair brook cleared. Daisy, looking back in some anxiety, 
could not but admire the form in which Norah roused and 
handled Boneen. That good little horse, bred and trained 
in Ireland, seemed to combine the activity of a cat with the 
sagacious instincts of a dog. Like all of his blood, he only 
left off being lazy when his companions began to feel tired; 
and Mrs. Walters, coming up with her husband, as they 
rose the hill from the waterside, declared, though he did 
not hear her, “ I could lead the hunt now, Daisy, if 
you’d let me. Little Boneen’s as pleased as Punch ! 
He’d like to pull hard, only he’s such a good boy he doesn’t 
know how! ” 




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“ Taking fast hold of his horse’s head, he got over with a scramble.” 
Satanclla.'\ [Page 301 



VNDIVIDEB 


301 


Bill’s horse dropped its hind legs in the brook, and fell, 
but was soon up again with its rider. The General got 
over successfully; nevertheless, his weight was beginning to 
tell, and the ground being now on the ascent, he found 
himself the last of the five people with the hounds. 

At the crest of the hill frowned a black, forbidding- 
looking bull-finch : on this side a strong rail; on the other, 
if a horse ever got there, the uncertainty, which might or 
might not, culminate in a rattling fall. Daisy glanced 
anxiously to right and left, on his wife’s behalf, but 
there was no forgiveness. They must have it, or go home! 
Then he watched how the famous black mare would acquit 
herself a hundred yards ahead of him, and felt little 
reassured to detect such a struggle in the air while she 
topped the fence, as by no means inferred a pleasant 
landing where she disappeared on its far side. 

He wavered, he hesitated, and pulled his horse off for a 
stride ; but Norah’s impatient—‘‘Ah, Daisy 1 go on now! ” 
urged him to the attempt, and he chanced it, with his heart 
in his mouth, for her sake, not his own. 

Taking fast hold of his horse’s head, he got over with a 
scramble, turning afterwards in the saddle to watch how it 
fared with his wife and little Boneen. Her subsequent 
account described the performance better than could any 
words of mine. 

“ When I loosed him off at it,” said she, “ I just touched 
him on the shoulder vdth the whip, to let him know he 
wasn’t in Kildare. He understood well enough, the little 


302 


SATANELLA 


darling! for he pricked his ears, and came back to a slow 
canter; but I’d like ye to have felt the hound he made 
when he rose to it! Such a place beyond! ’Twas as 
thick as a cabbage-garden—dog-roses, honeysuckles, I’m 
not sure there wasn’t cauliflowers, and all twisted up 
together to conceal a deep, wide, black-looking hole, like 
a boreen.* Well, I just felt him give a sort of a little 
kick, while he left the entire perplexity ten feet behind 
him, and when he landed, as light as a fairy, Daisy, I’m 
sure I heard him laugh! ” 

Mrs. Walters, like most of her nation, abounded in 
enthusiasm. She could not forbear a little cry of delight 
at the panorama that opened before her, when she had 
effected the above-mentioned-feat. To the very horizon lay 
stretched a magnificent vale of pasture, brightened by the 
slanting rays of a November sun. Far ahead, fleeting 
across the level below, sped a dark object, she recognised 
for the deer; a field nearer were the hounds, running their 
hardest, in a string that showed they too had caught 
sight of their game. Half-way dowm the hill she was 
herself descending, the other lady was urging the black 
mare to head-long speed, very dangerous on such a steep 
incline. Fifty yards behind Satanella, came Daisy, and 
close on his heels, Norah, wild with delight, feeling a 
strong inclination to give Boneen his head, and go by them 
all. The little horse, however, watched his stable- 
companion narrowly, while his rider’s eyes were riveted on 
• “Boreen,” Irish for a deep, stone-paved lane. 


UNDIVIDED 


803 


the hounds. Suddenly she felt him shorten his stride and 
stop, with a jerk, that nearly shot her out of the saddle. 
Glancing at Daisy, for an explanation, she screamed aloud, 
and covered her face with her hands. 

When she looked again, she was aware of her husband’s 
horse staring wildly about with the bridle over its head ; of 
Daisy himself on foot, and, a few yards off, the good black 
mare prostrate, motionless, rolled up in a confused and 
hideous mass with her hapless rider. 

Down hill, at racing pace, Satanella had put her fore¬ 
feet through a covered drain, with the inevitable result— 
the surface gave way, letting her in to the shoulders, and 
a few yards farther on, she lay across her mistress, with her 
neck broken, never to stir those strong, fleet limbs 
again. 

“ Oh! Daisy, they’re both killed! ” whispered Norah, 
with a drawn, white face, while her husband, busying 
himself to undo the girths, and thus extricate that limp 
helpless figure from beneath the weight that crushed it so 
sorely, shouted for assistance to Soldier Bill and the 
General, who at that moment entered the field 
together. 

‘‘ I trust in heaven, not f” he replied aloud; and, below 
his breath, even while his heart smote him for the thought, 
^‘It might have been worse. My darling, it might have 
been you ! ” 


CHAPTEE XXX 

THE BITTEB END 

It was indeed a sad sight for those joyous riders, exulting 
but a moment before, in all the triumph and excitement of 
their gallop. Saddest and most pitiable for the General, 
thus to find and recognise the woman he had loved and lost. 
Wliile they took her gently out from under the dead mare’s 
carcase, she groaned feebly, and they said, “ Thank God ! ” 
for at least there seemed left a faint spark of life. 
Assistance, too, was near at hand. As Norah observed, 
‘‘ ’Twasn’t like Kildare, where ye wouldn’t have seen a 
shealing or may be so much as a potato-garden for miles ! 
But every farm here was kept like a domain, and they’d 
built a dwelling-house almost in every field ! ” Within a 
short distance stood the comfortable mansion, surrounded 
by its well-stocked fold-yards, of a substantial yeoman; and 
Bill, with two falls, was there in two minutes ! A few of 
the second fiight also, persevering resolutely on the line the 
hounds had gone, straggled up and did good service. 
What became of the Field, and where the deer was taken, 


304 


THJi BITTER END 


305 


none of these had opportunity to ascertain. All their 
energies, all their sympathies, were engrossed hy that 
helpless, motionless form, that beautiful rigid face, 
so wan and white, beneath its folds of glossy raven 
hair. 

Carrying her softly and carefully on a gate to her place 
of shelter, it looked as if they formed a funeral procession, 
of which the General seemed chief-mourner. 

His bearing was stern and composed, his step never 
faltered, nor did his hand shake; but he who wrestled wdth 
the angel of old, and prevailed against him, could scarcely 
have out-done this loving, longing heart in earnestness of 
purpose and passionate pleading of prayer. 

“ But once more! ” was his petition. “ Only that she 
may know me, and look on me once more 1 ” and it was 
granted. 

For two days Blanche Douglas never spoke nor stirred. 
Mrs. Walters constituted herself head-nurse, and never left 
her pillow. The General remained the whole time at the 
threshold of her chamber. 

The surgeon, a country practitioner of high repute, who 
saw her within an hour of her accident, committed himself 
to no opinion by word or sign, but shook his head 
despondingly the moment he found himself alone. The 
famous London doctor, telegraphed for at once, preserved 
an ominous silence. He, too, getting into the fly that 
took him back to the station, looked grave and shook his 
head. The hospitable yeoman, who placed his house and 

20 


306 


SATANELLA 


all he had freely at the sufferer’s disposal, packing off the 
very children to their aunt’s, at the next farm, felt, as he 
described it, “ Down-hearted—uncommon.” His kindly 
wife went about softly and in tears. Daisy and Bill 
hurried to and fro, in every direction, as required, by night 
and day; while Norah, watching in the darkened room, 
tried to hope against hope, and pray for that which she 
dared not even think it possible could be granted. 

The General looked the quietest and most composed of 
all. Calm and still, he seemed less to watch than to wait. 
Perhaps some subtler instinct than theirs taught him the 
disastrous certainty, revealed to him the inevitable truth. 

Towards evening of the second day Norah came into the 
passage and laid her hand on his shoulder, as he sat gazing 
vacantly from the window, over the fields and orchards about 
the farm. They loomed hazy and indistinct in the early 
winter twilight, hut the scene on which he looked was clear 
enough—a bright sunny slope, a golden gleam in the sky 
above, and on earth a dark heap, -with a trailing habit, and 
a slender riding-whip clenched in a small gloved hand. 

She has just asked for you,” whispered Norah. ‘^Go 
to her—quick ! God bless you. General! Try and bear it 
like a man! ” 

The room was very dark. He stole softly to her bedside, 
and felt his fingers clasped in the familiar clinging touch 
once more. 

My darling 1 ” he murmured, and the strong man’s 
tears welled up, thick and hot, like a child’s. 


THE BITTEB END 


307 


Her voice came, very weak and low. The poor mare! ” 
she said; “is she much hurt? It was no fault of 
hers.” 

He must have ansvrered, and told her the truth 
without knowing it; for she proceeded more feebly than 
before. 

“ Both of us ! Then it’s no use. I was going to give 
her to you, dear, and ask you to take care of her for my 
sake. Have you—have you forgiven ? ” 

“ Forgiven ! ” His failing accents were even less steady 
than her own. 

“I vexed you dreadfully,” she continued. “ I was not 
good enough for you. I see it all; and, if it could come 
again, I would never leave you—never ! But I did it for 
the best. I took great pains to hide myself away down 
here ; but I’m glad. Yes, I’m very glad you found me out 
at last. How dark it is! Don’t let go my hand. Kiss 
me, my own ! I know now that I did love you dearly—far 
better than I thought.” 

The feeble grasp tightened, stronger, stronger, yet. 
The shadows fell, the night came down, and a pale moon 
threw its ghostly light into the chamber. But the face he 
loved was fixed and grey now, the hand he still clasped was 
stiff and cold in death. 

The General carried to India a less sore heart, perhaps, than 
he had expected. There was no room left for the gnawing 
anxiety, the bitter sense of humiliation, the persistent 



308 


SATANELLA 


struggle against self, that distressed and troubled him in 
his previous relations with her he had loved so dearly, and 
lost so cruelly even in the hour she became his own. He 
was grave and silent, no doubt, in feelings and appearance, 
many years beyond his real age; but every fresh grey hair, 
every additional symptom of decay, seemed only a milestone 
nearer home. Without speculating much on its locality, 
he cherished an ardent hope that soon he might follow to 
the place where she had gone before. None should come 
between them there, he thought, and they need never part 
again. 

Soldier Bill and Daisy saw the last of him when he left 
England; the former rather envied every one who was 
bound for a sphere in which there seemed a possibility of 
seeing real service, the latter comparing his senior’s lonely 
life and blighted hopes with his own happy lot, felt a 
humbler, a wiser, and a better man for the contrast. 

Mrs. Walters, though losing none of her good nature and 
genial Irish humour, became more staid in manner, 
altogether more matronly; and though she went out 
hunting on occasion, certainly rode less boldly than before 
the catastrophe. Her sister Mary, however, who came 
over to stay with her about this time, kept up the family 
credit for daring, and would have taken Bill’s heart by 
storm if she had not won it already with the fearlessness 
she displayed in following him over the most formidable 
obstacles. After a famous day on Boneen, when she 
bustled that lazy little gentleman along in a manner that 


THE BITTER END 


809 


perfectly electrified him, Bill could hold out no longer, but 
placed himself, his fortunes. Catamount, and Benjamin, at 
her disposal. All these she was good enough to accept 
but the badger ; and that odorous animal was compelled to 
evacuate his quarters in the wardrobe for a more suitable 
residence out of barracks, at a livery-stable. So they were 
married in London, and inaugurated the first day of their 
honeymoon by a quick thing with the Windsor drag- 
hounds. 

Of Mrs. Lushington there is little more to be said. The 
sad fate of her former friend she accepted with the 
resignation usually displayed by those of her particular set 
in the face of such afflictions as do not immediately effect 
themselves and their pleasures. She vowed it was very sad, 
talked of wearing black—but didn’t! and went out to 
dinner much as usual. Even Bessie Gordon showed more 
feeling, for she did cry when she heard the news, and 
appeared that night at a ball with swollen eyelids and a red 
place under her nose. Many people asked what had 
become of Miss Douglas? The answer was usually 
something to this effect— 

Don’t you remember ? Painful business ; shocking 
accident. Killed out hunting. Odd story; odd girl. 
Yes, handsome, hut peculiar style! ” 

They buried the good black mare where she fell. Long 
before the grass was green over her grave, rider and horse 
had been very generally forgotten. Yet in their own circle 
both had created no small sensation in their time. But 


310 


SATANELLA 


life is so far like tlie ckase, that it admits of but little 
leisure for hesitation; none whatever for regret. How 
should we ever get to the finish if we must needs stop to 
pick up the fallen, or to mourn for the dead ? 

In certain kind and faithful hearts, however, it is but 
justice to say the memory of that hapless pair remains 
fresh and vivid as on the day of their fatal dovvmfall. 

There is a stern, grey-headed soldier in the East who 
sees Blanche Douglas nightly in his dreams; and Daisy 
Walters, in his highest state of exultation, when he has 
been well-carried, as often haj)pens, through a run, heaves a 
sigh, and feels something aching at his heart, that recalls 
the black mare and her lovely wayward rider, while it 
reminds him in a ghostly whisper that “ there never was one 
yet like Satanella ! ” 


UNTTIN BROTHERS, THE GRESHAM PRESS, WOKING AND LONDON. 


















































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































































